


Redemption

by alatariel_gildaen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, F/M, Gen, because this is me and i find it impossible to write a story without it, eventually there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatariel_gildaen/pseuds/alatariel_gildaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Snape's death, he awakens in early 1980. The fates have given him a second chance to undo the greatest mistake he ever made - an opportunity to save countless lives, including his own, and a chance to live for himself at long last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I removed this story from ffnet about a year ago. After re-reading it, I realised how much I had improved as a writer, and was a bit embarrassed by how basic it was. I also never actually got round to finishing it, despite having the entire plot laid out in my head.
> 
> Well, those of you who know me, also know how much Alan Rickman meant to me. It was his performance in Robin Hood, which I saw in the cinema when I was just eight years old, which inspired me to become a performer in the first place. I loved absolutely everything he ever did. When he was cast as my favourite character in Harry Potter, it was like a dream come true.
> 
> And so, since his death, the plot of this unfinished story has been whirling around in my mind again. So I am rewriting it entirely. I obviously have loads of other stories that I still need to work on too, so hey, what's another WIP between friends?
> 
> Come say hello on tumblr - alatarielgildaen - and please do leave a review. Or just tell me how much you loved Alan Rickman too. Either way, I'll be happy to hear from you.

So this was it. Eighteen years of grief and misery, eighteen years of lying, eighteen years of kowtowing both to Dumbledore and to the Dark Lord, in order to lead the boy whose life he had promised to save _for her_ to his death, and he had failed at the last moment. The vital piece of information that Dumbledore had entrusted him to pass on to the boy would be lost forever.

A terrible, hot, wet heat spread out from the point at his neck where the snake's fangs had pierced his flesh. With a very great effort he reached up to the place on his neck where the pain emanated and tried to staunch the flow. If he were still capable he would have laughed at the pathetic gesture.

He wondered what would happen to him after death. Would he go on to a better place? Had he repented enough for his terrible deeds to earn a peaceful afterlife? Or, more likely, would his failure work against him, meaning his soul would never find true serenity?

A shadow passed over him. A mud-bespattered pair of trainers and filthy, frayed jeans stepped into view. His eyes drifted in and out of focus for a moment as he tried to work out if he was imagining them. A moment later, the owner of the trainers and jeans knelt down beside him. Potter…

His heart leapt, causing a fresh surge of pain at the wound in his neck. There was still a chance that this worthless life could be of some use after all. With every last ounce of strength he possessed he grasped at the front of Potter's clothes and focused all of his mental energy on the memories that it was so vital for Potter to see.

"Take it," he gasped.

He was vaguely aware of the Granger girl conjuring a flask to catch his final thoughts, and offered up a silent prayer that at least she had the wherewithal to think, even if Potter didn't.

The flask filled quickly. Life was leaving him just as fast. And what if a hellish eternity of torment did await him on the other side? He had held fast to the belief that in death he may see her again for so long, but what if that was to be denied? He had to see her, one last time.

Blood was filling his lungs. He was running out of time. "Look at me," he said. He blotted out everything. The noise and smoke of battle. The excruciating pain. The hated face before him. Everything except those piercing green eyes. He focused on them, and on the only true joy he had ever felt; being looked on by those eyes with kindness.

Light faded from the world, and all was black.

…...

Except that it wasn't.

Light had returned and from many different angles; however, there weren't quite enough candles, and the fire in the grate wasn't blazing with quite enough intensity for this light to give any particular impression of warmth. His eyes were having a tremendous amount of difficulty on focusing on anything other than the light streaming into them, and he blinked furiously.

The stench of blood and smoke had also changed. Instead of the smoke of burning buildings and explosions, this was older, staler. Severus recognised it as tobacco smoke. And it was mixed with something else… the sharp tang of alcohol and the scent of food cooked by someone who really should avoid kitchens at all costs; burnt bread and over cooked cabbage.

The sounds were different too. No longer were his ears filled with the terrible shrieks of the dead and dying, or the constant rumble of destruction, but with the animated sound of conversation, although one voice in particular seemed raised and angry.

There was something oddly familiar about the place. He was terribly confused and disoriented, and still unable fully to focus, but from what he could gather, it looked, sounded, and smelled as if he were in the Hog's Head.

Very tentatively, Severus reached up to touch his own throat; it was whole and undamaged, and the excruciating pain he had been experiencing just moments before had entirely vanished.

Was this the afterlife, then? He had never been one to especially ponder the mysteries of life, or to dwell much upon his own mortality, but if he had been forced to hazard a guess regarding what came after death, the Hog's Head would be pretty far down the list.

A rough shove to his shoulder caught him off guard and he very nearly stumbled, only regaining his balance thanks to the fact that whoever had pushed him was also maintaining a very tight grip on his robes. The one raised and angry voice that he heard before shouted again, and through his confusion he forced himself to listen to the words. "….do you think you're playing at, eh, sunshine?"

"What?" he asked after a brief pause.

"You need me to repeat myself a third time? What do you think you're up to, huh?"

Another voice, one that was oh-so familiar, called out, "Is there a problem, Aberforth?"

Dumbledore. He had of course expected that he would encounter Albus here in the afterlife, but to learn of Aberforth's demise too? That was most unexpected indeed.

"Found this little toerag," — Severus felt another rough shove against his shoulder — "skulking around. Pretty sure he was trying to spy on you. You want I should call the Aurors?"

Severus furiously blinked his eyes once more, trying to get them to focus, and at long last his surroundings came fully into view.

Before him, sat around a small, rickety table in what he recognised immediately as the smallest of the private rooms at the Hog's Head, were Albus Dumbledore and Sybil Trelawney.

He could just about catch the image of his own reflection in the dark window behind them and was shocked to see the man who starred back. He couldn't have been older than twenty. Twenty-one at the most.

His breath caught in his throat. He had no explanation for what could possibly have happened, but he had returned to life. He had come back to a point where, once upon a time, he had made a decision that had the most monumentally tragic repercussions. This was the exact moment in time that he had heard part of that damned prophecy, and had gone running to the Dark Lord. This was the exact moment that he had set in motion the sequence of events that led to Lily's untimely demise. He was being given the opportunity to change _everything._

"I don't know that the Aurors are entirely necessary. Not just yet, anyway," said Dumbledore, his voice light but with the air of authority that Severus recognised all too well. "We'll at least give young Mr Snape a chance to explain his actions."

With difficulty he tore his gaze away from his own reflection, and his eyes landed on Dumbledore. "I have to talk to you," he said.

"The floor is all yours," said Dumbledore with a wave of his hand.

"Alone," added Severus, wincing slightly as Aberforth's grip on his shoulder tightened.

Dumbledore's light blue eyes scanned him appraisingly, before the headmaster turned towards Trelawney and said, "Thank you. I should like to offer you the position. If you are able to wait for me in the saloon bar, I would be very happy if you were able to join me at the school this evening. Aberforth, please take Ms Trelawney to the bar for me. And look after her until I am done here?"

"Albus—"

"Now, Aberforth, if you don't mind."

Taking great care to ensure that he barged into Severus one more time with his elbow, Aberforth departed, while Trelawney floated past, looking as regal as her ridiculous over-sized spectacles and multiple shawls would allow her.

Severus watched them go then turned back to face Dumbledore. He was unsurprised to see that Dumbledore's wand was trained on him.

"You were indeed sent here to spy on me, were you not?"

"I was," confirmed Severus.

"Tell me, how is Voldemort these days?"

Severus flinched involuntarily at the use of the Dark Lord's name, expecting a group of Snatchers or Death Eaters to appear. It took a moment for him to recall that the name wasn't yet Taboo.

"Can't bear to hear his name, yet you have no problem doing his bidding," said Dumbledore, sadly shaking his head. "Tragic, really. You could have been so much more, Severus."

"I still hope to be," said Severus. "I am… sorry. I was foolish. I wish to come back to you."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly, then he shook his head sadly once more. Sighing deeply, he said, "I wish I could believe you, Severus. You almost had me. But while you use Occlumency against me, it is impossible for me to trust you."

Severus felt a desperate, sinking feeling. He had been able to lie undetected to the Dark Lord for so many years—a man who claimed to be the greatest Legilimens of all time—but he had never once been able to lie to Dumbledore. He could not return to the Dark Lord, but if Dumbledore wouldn't accept him either, he had nowhere to go.

"I have very good reason to be using Occlumency against you, Albus."

"And yet the fact that you are means that you have something to hide. We are at a stalemate."

A scurrying movement in the corner of the room caught his eye, and an enormous rat ran out from his hiding hole, grabbed a few morsels of crumbs on the floor, and ran back. The Hogs Head had never been synonymous with cleanliness.

The sight of the rat brought to mind another rat, one who was still alive, one who was still spying on the Order…. A sudden idea came to him of how he could prove his loyalty. "Wormtail...." he breathed.

"Wormtail?" repeated Dumbledore. "What is 'Wormtail?'"

"You have a spy in the Order of the Phoenix relaying information directly to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore stood up and raised his wand, pointing it directly at Severus' face. "How do you possibly know about The Order?"

"Peter Pettigrew is working for the Dark Lord. And I can prove it to you." Severus rolled up the sleeve of his robes, and revealed the stark, ugly tattoo on his forearm. "Every one of his Death Eaters is marked with this. Pettigrew will have one. If he doesn't..." Severus swallowed heavily. It was very difficult to remember precisely what had and hadn't occurred. And of course he personally hadn't known at all about Pettigrew being the Dark Lord's spy until Black's escape from Azkaban. If Pettigrew _hadn't_ yet turned on the Order… "You may call the Aurors and I will go quietly to Azkaban."

Something in his solemn tone must have touched Dumbledore, because the older man's response was to lower his wand and say in a kindly voice, "I don't think there will be any need for that. Not if you truly wish to come back to us. And if what you say is true, then you and I have work to do. Tonight."

For a moment, Severus thought about the day he had had. Woken up as normal, tried to turn a blind eye to the low-level rioting of a group of third year Ravenclaws, done his utmost to prevent a group of first year Hufflepuffs from being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, sat in stunned silence at the news that Potter and his friends had broken into Gringotts, been told by both Dumbledore's portrait and the Dark Lord that he could expect Potter to break into Hogwarts next, watched as his beloved school was destroyed, been killed by the Dark Lord's accursed snake, and finally woken up back in 1980. He wanted nothing more than to go home, down an entire bottle of Firewhisky, and go to sleep.

But as there was no way he could voice any of this without ending up in St Mungo's, he merely nodded, and followed Dumbledore outside, and into the cold, night air.


	2. Chapter 2

After ensuring that Aberforth would keep an eye on Trelawney until further notice, Albus led Severus outside. "I hope you understand that until I am certain of your intentions, I cannot take you to our current headquarters?" Dumbledore's tone was light, but his gaze as keen and penetrating as ever. Severus nodded shortly. "I know of a safe spot for us to meet," he added, extending his arm for Severus to take.

Severus did as he was bid, and a split second later Dumbledore Apparated them both away, reappearing moments later in a forest clearing. Severus looked up to the clear, night sky. The stars seemed oddly bright in the frozen air and he shivered as, with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore sent several Patronuses flying into the otherwise black forest. He watched the phoenixes fly through the trees, the bright silver illuminating everything around them and making the surrounding darkness seem even more pitch black by comparison. The sight brought a clear memory back of Boxing Day the previous year, where he had sent his doe on a mission through the trees in order to bring Potter to the Sword of Gryffindor.

That incident now only existed in his mind. Or did it? He had vague recollections of reading in a Muggle science journal about the Multiverse theory - parallel universes where everything was virtually identical, except for one tiny detail. Had he perhaps found himself in one of these alternate worlds, and somewhere out there in the infinite reaches of space, he was still there, lying dead from his wounds? If that was the case, would it still be his Lily that he would strive to save in this universe? Or would she be someone else entirely?

The thoughts rushing through his mind gave him a terrible headache. He shook his head slightly to clear it, and turned back to Dumbledore just as the older man said, "I am sorry, Severus, but I will need your wand."

"Why?"

"Call it prudence," said Dumbledore, a hollow smile crossing his face as he held his hand out expectantly. "It will be returned to you, if your information is correct. I also think it best if you stay out of sight, for now." Dumbledore nodded to a thicket of trees that would provide an excellent hiding spot in the darkness of the forest. "Hurry. They will be here momentarily."

Severus reached inside his robes and handed his wand over to Dumbledore. At that moment, Dumbledore's smile instantly became warmer and more trusting. Severus managed to hide behind the thicket just as the first pop indicated that someone had Apparated into the clearing. Through a gap in the trees, Severus could make out the form of Remus Lupin, looking far younger than Severus remembered, although still prematurely aged for a man in his early twenties.

"What is this emergency, Albus?" Lupin's voice carried on the clear, cold night air, but Albus put a hand up to silence him. "In good time, Remus."

Soon after Lupin's arrival another loud pop echoed around the clearing. Sirius Black arrived and immediately sat on a log, legs stretched out in front of him, completely at ease. Intense dislike welled up inside Severus, and he involuntarily formed tight fists. His anger increased when moments later Pettigrew appeared in the clearing, looking twitchy and nervous. Dumbledore invited Pettigrew to sit near Sirius, who shifted over slightly, then stretched back with his hands behind his head.

The next person to arrive was Alastor Moody, both eyes and leg still intact, who immediately began to patrol around the edge of the clearing, until Dumbledore called him over to his side.

Finally, arm in arm, were Lily and Potter. Severus froze at the sight of her, as if the Full Body Bind had been cast over him. She was easily the brightest thing in that dark clearing, her pale skin shining almost ethereally. Her hand hovered over her belly, which protruded very slightly under her robes. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. With all the effort in the world, Severus tore his gaze away from her and furiously blinked away the tears that streamed silently down his long, hooked nose.

Seeing her arm in arm with Potter was as painful as being stabbed. And seeing that she was already pregnant, carrying his child... Severus put a shaking hand against the nearest tree to steady himself and fought hard against the rising nausea and unbridled rage.

Why had Dumbledore summoned all these people? Surely Pettigrew alone would have been enough?

The biting cold made the tears on his face feel like tiny knives, and he quickly wiped them on the back of his sleeve, just as Dumbledore began to speak. "I am sorry to inconvenience each of you by dragging you away from your warm firesides on this cold evening. But I have, not twenty minutes ago, been made privy to a piece of information that concerns each of you personally. There is a Death Eater here amongst us tonight. As to his or her identity, I am not yet certain."

Severus thought that Dumbledore's eyes gave the briefest of flicks over to where he was hiding as a rising murmur of disbelief came from the assembled crowd. It seemed that perhaps Dumbledore was still considering Severus' offer to hand himself over to the Dementors if his information proved incorrect.

"I would like to add that it is currently impossible to Apparate away from this clearing, so please, allow me to conduct my investigations. Remus, please would you step forward and roll up your left sleeve."

Lupin did as he was told, a confused and wary look on his face. "Albus, I assure you that despite what some members of the Order may think, I have never been involved in any kind of dark activity."

But Dumbledore was clearly more interested in Pettigrew's reaction; the small, watery-eyed man was slowly backing away towards the edge of the clearing. Moody followed Dumbledore's gaze and raised his wand. "Where do you think you're going, eh, lad?" With the Auror's wand trained on him, Pettigrew stood as still as a statue, whimpering slightly. Dumbledore pulled the sleeve of his robe up, and there, starkly black against his pale skin, was the leering face of a skull, a snake protruding from the lipless grin.

"Take him away for questioning, Alastor," said Dumbledore sadly. With a wave of his wand he lifted his previous Apparating restrictions, and despite Pettigrew's desperate begging and ineffectual protests, Moody Disapparated with Pettigrew just moments later.

"I am sorry that you all had to witness that," said Dumbledore. "As his closest friends, I felt that you had the right to know before anyone else. And Remus, I am dreadfully sorry if you feel in any way used."

"Not at all, Albus," said Lupin, staring into the empty space where Pettigrew and Moody had just vanished. "But how did you know he was a traitor?"

"And what was that tattoo thing?" added Sirius.

"I received information from a brand new source. They told me that all of Voldemort's followers have that mark, and that Peter would have it too."

"I can't believe it," said Lily drying her eyes, and once again Severus' breath caught in his throat. Her lilting voice was soothing music to his soul. He rested his forehead against the trunk of the trees, unable to tear his eyes from her. "Not Peter. I wouldn't have believed any of us would ever work for Voldemort, but Peter? Where did this information come from, Albus?"

Dumbledore glanced over to where he, Severus, was hiding in the trees. He experienced a moment of blind panic, and stupidly managed to bang his forehead sharply on the tree he had been resting against. "Severus, please come out."

He had not been expecting to show himself and was not prepared. Four sets of angry, raised voices shouted their protests, and as Severus sidled out from behind the tree four wands pointed in his direction.

"The fuck…?"

"Albus, you cannot be serious."

"You believe this little shit over Peter?"

"Don't trust him! He's a Death Eater himself, Albus! He always wanted to join up with Voldemort! Even at school!"

Lily's words cut into him the most. If only he could have gone back to an earlier point in time, where she and him were still friends… "Lils, I—"

"Don't call me that!" she spat, while at the same time, Potter shouted, "Don't you dare talk to my wife!"

The animosity with which Lily was staring at him rendered him utterly speechless. He could not care less about the hatred displayed on the other three faces, but Lily… His mouth opened and closed silently, and he looked to Albus to intervene.

The older man stepped forward, placing himself between the four raised wands and Severus. "It takes time for the bonds of trust to be built, I understand, but I would hope that everyone here would at least trust me. We had an inkling that there was a spy in our midst, and thanks to the information provided by Severus, we have caught and put a stop to that spy before any real damage could be done."

"He's taking you for a ride, Albus. It'll be your funeral."

"Sirius, please," said Dumbledore warningly. "I am not asking any of you to be friends, but I would appreciate it if you could put your differences aside for now. We are all working to the same ends, after all."

Very slowly the four sets of wands were lowered. Sirius took a few steps closer to Dumbledore. "Just so you know, Albus, at the first sign of betrayal, I'll take him out personally." Black spat viciously at the floor in Severus' direction, and Disapparated away seconds later.

Lily flashed Severus one more angry look, one that was filled with such rancour and hostility that Severus felt himself physically quell under it. She turned back to Potter and muttered, "Let's get out of here." The two of them Disapparated together.

He was vaguely aware of Lupin mumbling something along the lines of, "Welcome on board," before he too vanished, but Severus was unable to tear his eyes from the spot where Lily had been stood. He had not expected her to be so cold towards him. After so many years of his own personal atonement, he had always pictured that she would be forgiving at their reunion.

Dumbledore watched him appraisingly, and finally a look of understanding passed over his face. "I cannot say that your feelings towards her will ever be reciprocated, Severus. And it would be highly unfair of you to expect that. But I feel certain that, given time, forgiveness will come and perhaps a rekindling of friendship will follow." He held Severus' wand out towards him, which Severus snatched wordlessly, still unable to look anywhere but the space left behind by Lily.

The unjustness of his situation caused tears to form once more. He impatiently brushed them away as Dumbledore said, "You have done a very brave thing tonight, Severus. I should very much appreciate it if you would accompany me back to Hogwarts. We have much to discuss."

Nodding almost imperceptibly, and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, Severus vanished into the compressing darkness, reappearing moments later just minutes from the place where, earlier in the evening, he had lost his life.

It was raining heavily at Hogwarts, the bruised sky illuminated every now and then by a flash of lightening, and Severus pulled his cloak tighter around him as he started the trudge up towards the castle. Perhaps the grimness of the weather was exacerbating his already dark mood, but he found himself beset by growing fears and doubts. Dumbledore was clearly going to grill him for every last piece of information about the Dark Lord that he had, but the problem was that he had very little that would be of use at the present time. When he first overheard the prophecy, his standing with the Dark lord had been pretty low, and he had never been privy to much information. Indeed, the mission to spy on Dumbledore had been pretty much his last chance to prove himself useful to the Dark Lord.

He followed the familiar path to the Headmaster's office, and sat opposite Dumbledore as the older man surveyed him over the edge of his half-moon glasses. Just as Severus had predicted, Dumbledore questioned him over and over about the Dark Lord's movements, his plans, his targets. And each time that Severus disappointed him with his lack of knowledge, he felt himself succumbing more and more to exhaustion. He wished for nothing more than to retire to his own private quarters and sleep. Except... right now they weren't his quarters. His brain pounded painfully against the inside of his skull.

Eventually he could be questioned no more. Raising a hand to silence the older man he said, "I am sorry, Professor. I really do not know how much use I can be to you. I have already told you all I can."

Severus felt himself being x-rayed by Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze. After a few seconds, the Headmaster sighed deeply and said, "And yet, what I need primarily is information. Remus Lupin has tried, with little success so far, to infiltrate a group of potential Death Eaters. Many werewolves are turning to Voldemort, and we have been trying to use this to our advantage."

"Lupin?" snorted Severus. "They would see through him in an instant, and tear him apart."

"Well, quite. But the fact remains that we need someone in Voldemort's inner circle."

Severus leaned back in his chair, pushing his hair out of his face. "I was sent to spy on you this evening, as a final chance to prove my worth. I am not in his inner circle. I cannot tell him what I overheard, for who knows what he would do with such a delicate piece of information? And if I return to him empty handed I will be entirely disposable."

"And what if you were to return to him with information?"

He shivered uncontrollably. Was Dumbledore instructing him to relay the prophecy after all? "You have no idea what you are asking me to do, Albus."

He quickly raised his mental defences as he felt the faintest of probings at the edge of his mind. "And I have no idea what it is that you are trying to keep secret from me, Severus..."

At that moment they were both distracted by a handsome tawny owl scratching at Dumbledore's window. Pausing only to give Severus one last searching look, Dumbledore stood up and crossed to the window to allow the owl access. The owl flew inside, dropped a letter on Dumbledore's desk, then immediately took flight through the open window.

The letter was sealed with an official Ministry wax seal, which Dumbledore broke apart. He read the message in silence, a small frown creasing his brow, occasionally looking up to glance at Severus. After a few minutes he placed the letter on his desk and, without looking at Severus, began to talk.

"This is an initial report from Alastor Moody on the questioning of Peter Pettigrew. There is an... inconsistency here I would like explained."

Severus remained silent. Years of conditioning from dealing with the Dark Lord told him to hold his counsel.

"Pettigrew has confessed something, which I must admit, explains a good deal. It would appear that he is an unregistered animagus. He has been able to spy on certain members of the Order using his disguise. Only certain members. Others, it would appear, would have been able to recognise his disguise instantly. Is there anything here that you would care to elaborate on, Severus?"

Once again, Severus remained silent.

"No? Allow me to continue. There were two other unregistered animagi running amok whilst they were at school, and in order to keep their wrong-doings secret they had code names for each other. Pettigrew was able to turn into a rat. Apparently he used the code name 'Wormtail.' Does this word sound familiar, Severus? After all, you uttered that name back at The Hog's Head... He has also told the Ministry that other than his closest friends only Voldemort knows this particular piece of information. He has confessed this twice. Once to Alastor Moody in his initial questioning, and again under the use of Veritaserum to confirm his confession." Dumbledore finally raised his gaze to Severus. "Do you see the position I am now put in? How is it that you knew the name 'Wormtail,' when only a handful of other people knew? The way I see it, one person is lying, and I am presented with two options. One, a man who has confessed under Veritaserum, the other being a man I know is employing Occlumency against me. What am I to make of this, Severus?"

Severus licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I am employing Occlumency. It is necessary, I have already told you this. I cannot give you the reason but I feel it safest for everyone that I keep this secret. I beg you, Albus, do not press this one matter." He swallowed heavily, his headache worsening with every passing second. "You clearly already know of my... my sentiments... towards Lily. I swear that I would die for her, a hundred thousand times over. I can no longer fight for a side that fights against her. You must believe that."

For a split second Severus thought he saw two different emotions flick across Dumbledore's face. There was an acceptance of his words, and something else... something... questioning? Remembering? Severus couldn't quite place it, and as soon as he noticed this strange emotion it had vanished. Nodding to himself, Dumbledore spoke. "We will protect you, Severus, if you choose it. However, with this skill you possess in Occlumency, it is entirely possible that you could be the only person who could get close to him, and who would be able to lie to him undetected. If you feel you can, I would like you to return to Voldemort."

Severus lowered his head and closed his eyes. His fate was sealed. "If that is what you request of me, if that is what must be done, then it shall be."

"Thank you. We shall need to find a way to raise your standing without doing damage to our own cause."

Fatigue crashed over him like a wave as the realisation of what he had agreed to do sank in. "I have to return to him tonight. He is expecting a report on your movements"

"And what will you tell him, Severus?"

Memories came flooding back to him. Memories of the first time he had heard the prophecy and had recounted everything he had heard to his master. The Dark Lord had given him a cold smile, one that did not reach the terrible red eyes. He had told Severus that he was pleased and would be rewarded. His rewards turned out to be a lifetime of pain and servitude.

"Anything you wish."

Peering over the top of his spectacles Dumbledore offered a half-smile. "I wish for you to tell him that you have been with me. Tell him that you spun me a tale of deepest remorse and that I, being a codgery old fool, believed you and welcomed you back with open arms. Tell him that I have agreed to protect you, and that you will use my naivety to gain my trust and bring him direct information. That should buy you some time."

Nerves threatened to overcome him at the thought, but Severus nodded and said, "I must go to him. Now"

"Alright," he agreed. "If you are certain that you are ready. Come back to the Hogwarts gates tomorrow night, nine o'clock. I will meet you, and we will discuss your mission."

He rose in silence, Dumbledore accompanying him. They walked together, not speaking, to the Hogwarts gates where Severus would be able to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side. As Dumbledore wished him good luck, a wave of cold dread washed over him. Lily's angry face swam sickeningly in his vision, before he pushed her from his mind and focused solely on being near to the Dark Lord. After touching the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark on his forearm, he twisted into the suffocating darkness.

Moments later he reappeared in an unfamiliar, cavernous, candlelit room. The stone walls were carved with grotesque figures; a stark contrast to the benign faces peering out from the glass windows. Clearly he was in a Muggle church. Despite not being a religious man, the foul irony that the Dark Lord had desecrated ground holy to the Muggles was not lost on him.

He Who Must Not Be Named was stood near the altar, his fingers interlocked in mockery of prayer. His closest Death Eaters stood in a circle around him, all of them cloaked and masked. Severus had not yet been afforded this highest honour of receiving a mask and he could feel their scornful glares as he approached the Dark Lord.

Clearing his mind of any thoughts that could betray him, he got down to his knees, bowed his head and said, "I have good news, my Lord."

"And what news might this be? More failure to do my bidding, perhaps?"

Laughter rang out, echoing around the spacious room. He forced himself to stay calm. "No, my Lord. I may soon be in a position to bring you much information about Albus Dumbledore."

"You may soon? But Severus — I sent you to get information today! How am I supposed to defeat Dumbledore if my Death Eaters fail me?" His voice, already as cold as ice, slipped a further few degrees. "Perhaps you would like a reminder of what it is to incur my wrath?"

Severus blurted out, "No, wait—" whilst at the same time the Dark Lord nodded to one of his masked Death Eaters. A female voice screeched, "Crucio!" A tiny part of Severus' mind registered that the voice belonged to none other than Bellatrix Lestrange before the blinding agony took hold of him. Every part of his body was on fire, and he was dimly aware of the sound of his own screams, but he forced his own mind to remain closed. After what could have been a lifetime, the curse was finally lifted.

Heaving and retching on the floor, Severus felt a foot kick him in the side and force him onto his back. He stared up into the face of the Dark Lord and choked out the words, "Please, my Lord..."

Bellatrix had come to her master's side, her wand raised. She was simply awaiting the order to torment again. Severus turned his head away, trying to make himself as small as possible. The Dark Lord contemplated the broken man on the floor and waved his hand, signalling to his best lieutenant to stand down. He watched patiently, almost curiously, waiting for Severus to speak.

"I... have... succeeded in... gaining his trust.." Severus managed to gasp between waves of excruciating pain. "I felt it... was the best way... He is an old fool... Willing to believe that anyone may change. I told him I wished to renounce my ways... and he believed me. Welcomed me back with open arms... If I can get close to him, he will tell me anything."

The Dark Lord contemplated him in silence for a while, then said in a low whisper, "I will know if you are lying to me." He raised his wand and Severus felt his face being forced upwards until he was looking directly in to the gleaming red, snake-like eyes. He had a split second to compose himself before he felt his mind being invaded. Forcing himself into calm, he let go of any feelings that may betray him.

Slowly—very slowly—a smile spread across the thin, lipless mouth. "You have done well, Severus. Very well indeed. I shall have much use for you over the coming months. Get up."

Fearful that his own body would betray him, Severus slowly rose to his feet. His muscles were still spasming, and a ripple of mocking laughter told him that he had provided the best entertainment of the evening.

"Return to him, Severus. I want to know everything— _everything_ —that old fool is up to." Severus, nodded, and was about Apparate away when the Dark Lord said, "Severus—know that I reward those who serve me well and serve me faithfully. Failure, however, will not be tolerated."

Severus inclined his head in a respectful bow, before he once again twisted into the compressing darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should probably give a warning here for emo-Snape. I promise he will improve over time! But yeah, this is a very angsty chapter. You've been warned.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts - I love discussing stories with people - and reviews do make new chapters appear faster. So please hit that button and come say hello.

Severus almost collapsed from exhaustion as he stumbled along Spinner's End. The freezing cold wind howled as it swept through the narrow street, sweeping up dead leaves, empty crisp packets, and other detritus and causing them to spin in a never-ending dance. Severus caught sight of the huge mill tower dominating the skyline, visible even in the dark, and ducked his head as a particularly hefty gust of wind sent several old sweet wrappers hurtling in his direction.

Pausing for a moment outside of his dilapidated front door, he took a quick look around to ensure he wasn't being watched. Up and down the street, cracks of light were just visible behind the drawn curtains, but no one aside from himself was foolish enough to be outside. He withdrew his wand from inside his robes and tapped the lock on the front door, which silently swung open.

The house was cold, dark, and empty. With a wave of his wand, Severus conjured several oil lamps and suspended them in the air, filling the dark little house with warming light. At that moment his stomach growled particularly loudly, and he wondered how long it had been since he had eaten. He shakily made his way through to the tiny, pokey kitchen and rummaged through the half-empty pantry, forcing his limbs to do his bidding, despite the after effects of _Crucio_ still working on them.

There was very little that appeared immediately edible, but he did find the end of a loaf of bread that was only just turning stale, some cheese with only the slightest covering of green mould, and an unopened jar of Marmite. The slightest of smiles crossed his face at this; the Muggle condiment was a childhood favourite of his, and was all but unheard of in the Wizarding world.

A quick tap of his wand and the gas grill was alight—he figured the stale bread would be made slightly more palatable by being toasted—and then he just had to wait, and try to ignore the incessant nagging of his stomach. As he was waiting, another physical twinge irked him: one that he recognised immediately yet had not felt in years. He had given up smoking in his late twenties, but clearly his body still felt the physical addiction. He desperately tried to ignore the cravings, focusing instead on covering the toast with Marmite and as much cheese as he had been able to salvage.

The smell of the cooked cheese made his mouth water, and he ate the first piece of toast in just three bites. _'Focus on one thing at a time,'_ he thought to himself. _'Food first. Then something to smoke. And something to wash it all down with. Preferably alcoholic to help numb the side effects of the_ Cruciatus _curse.'_

He took the second piece of toast through to the living room and sat down to eat. A cold wave of dread immediately washed over him as he realised something was very, very wrong. One of the first things he had gotten rid of when he inherited the house was the old black-and-white television that sat in the corner of the cramped living room—and it was still there. Was his father still alive then? Mouth suddenly dry, he forced himself to swallow the final piece of cheese on toast with some difficulty and looked up towards the ceiling. Was his father asleep upstairs perhaps? Sleeping off the evening's drink?

"Shit," he whispered to himself, unsure of what to do. All he wanted right now was to be alone with his thoughts, to try and collect them and process everything that had happened over the last day. What had he done before his father had died? His mother had died during his sixth year at Hogwarts, and once he turned seventeen, he swore that he would not set foot in this house again, not until his father had gone too. In the period between leaving home and his father dying, he'd lived a pretty nomadic existence, staying with whoever would take him in. He vaguely wondered where his meagre possessions currently were, if not here.

He had just made the decision to try and find a cheap hotel and worry about it all in the morning, when he heard someone fumbling with the front door. He could see the shadow of someone outside drunkenly shouting, "The fuck…? Someone 'ere? I'm warning yer, I'll fuckin' 'ave yer!"

Severus shuddered at the sound of his father's voice; so rough and uncouth, and with the heavily Northern twang that he himself had worked so hard to lose. His heart pounded but his hand was steady as he raised his wand and pointed it towards the doorway.

Barely a second later, Tobias Snape came into view wielding an umbrella as if it were a weapon. "You?" he spat, eyeing Severus' wand warily. He swayed drunkenly on the spot for a moment before lowering the umbrella. "So, is that what they taught yer at that school? How ter break into honest folks' houses?"

"I was just leaving. Let me past and I shan't bother you again after tonight."

"Hark at you! When d'you get all posh?"

"Father, just let me past. I've had a _really_ bad day, and—"

"You've had a bad day? Don't make me laugh! Did your fucking Prime Minister decide your industry were worthless, and leave you wi'out a job?" Tobias laughed humourlessly. "You wanna curse me with your little magic stick? Go right ahead. Can't make it worse for me." He ambled into the living room and grabbed an almost full bottle of whisky from a cabinet, before he collapsed heavily into an armchair.

Severus dropped his wand to his side and started to leave.

"I s'pose your 'ere looking for a place to stay, am I right?" said, Tobias, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"I was," replied Severus. "But I know better than to stay where I'm not welcome."

"Don't be so bloody dramatic. Stay if you want. Have a drink with your old man. I guess we've got some catching up to do."

Severus looked towards the front door. The wind outside choose that particular moment to howl especially loudly. He was too tired—far too tired— and far too shaky to face it. He found himself turning back inside the living room, so familiar and yet so alien.

"Grab yerself a glass, then."

He did as he was told and sat down on the edge of the threadbare two-seat sofa. His father handed him the bottle, and he poured himself a large glass before handing it back. The alcohol smelled pungent and cheap, and a tentative sip confirmed his theory. But it was better than nothing. Indeed, after the third sip it was almost drinkable.

His father had rolled himself a cigarette and Severus eyed it enviously. The nicotine cravings returned tenfold, and he cursed himself for how much like his father he had become, muttering the words, "Thank you," when Tobias carelessly tossed the packet of tobacco towards him.

Despite his shaking hands and aching limbs, he deftly rolled a cigarette, lighting it and inhaling deeply. His limbs slowly began to relax, the after effects of _Crucio_ finally beginning to wear off.

"I am sorry to hear you lost your job," said Severus after a moment's pause.

Tobias shrugged. "It were inevitable, the minute that bitch Thatcher came in to power. Knew she'd spell trouble for us workers." Tobias took a long swig from the bottle. "What about you? You working?"

"Not at the moment."

"Why don't that surprise me?"

Severus had expected his father to talk down to him, but the comment still stung. "I'm going to be a teacher," he said, trying to inject some pride into his voice.

"You? A teacher?" snorted Tobias. "No wonder this country's going to the fucking dogs. Go on then, give us a laugh, what are they gonna let you teach?"

"Potions," said Severus, staring into his glass, knocking back the rest in a single gulp. "It's like chemistry," he added as he noticed his father's blank look. Mentally he kicked himself for even attempting to gain his father's approval, and he snatched the bottle away from him in a vain effort to reassert himself, refilling, draining, and refilling his glass once more before thrusting the bottle back in his father's hands.

His father clearly had nothing negative to add, and the two of them drank and smoked in silence for a while. The alcohol was numbing everything, making his limbs heavy and his mind sluggish. His thoughts strayed back to Lily and he wondered what she was doing, and whether she was thinking of him at all.

Almost as if his father could hear his thoughts, Tobias suddenly said, "You still see that girl you were so fond of?"

Severus shuddered from a mix of the unexpected question and the cheap whisky coursing through his veins. "Not any more," he said quietly.

"Can't say I'm surprised. Always thought she were too good for you."

"Jesus fucking Christ, dad!" he spat, unable to control his reaction. "Can't you just—" he floundered, at a complete loss for words.

His father stood up, leant in towards him and with surprising speed and strength clipped the back of his head. "That were for blasphemy," he said, sitting back down and surveying his son with disdain.

It was too much. To be treated like a child after everything he had done? After everything he had been through? Severus shook his head in absolute disbelief, and stood up faster than his own body was ready for. It took every last ounce of his rapidly diminishing sobriety, strength, and co-ordination to stay upright. "I don't know why I came here," he slurred. "I shouldn't even be here."

"Right, and you're going to head out into this rain and wind to prove a point? Don't be so bloody ridiculous, Sev."

The wind howled louder than ever. Seventeen years of hurt and abuse at the hands of his father had been compounded by over twenty years of bitter memories, and yet right now he had nowhere else to go. His thoughts strayed back towards Lily, and how she would probably be in _his_ arms right now. A terrible mixture of emotions raged inside of him; fury and regret, confusion and loss, and a dreadful sense of hopelessness. Why? Why was he here? He had been able to prevent the Dark Lord from hearing any of the prophecy and he had been able to prevent Pettigrew from betraying Lily. But what difference would any of it make to him? He would still be alone, he would be forced to watch her grow older with Potter, and she still hated him. And the Dark Lord would just grow in power, and maybe in this reality there would be even more death and suffering.

It was all too much. He was torn between his need to be away from his father, and his need to be in the blissful emptiness of sleep. "I'm going to bed," he said at long last, swaying dangerously on the spot. "I shall leave in the morning. You won't have to see me again."

Tobias snorted as he swigged from the bottle one more time. "Sure thing, Sev. Keep running away, lad. You're good at that, at least."

Severus climbed the stairs to his old childhood bedroom, his father's last insult ringing in his ears. He barely made it before he collapsed on his bed, exhaustion finally taking over, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*****

A pounding headache and desperately dry mouth dragged Severus from sleep. He slowly opened his eyes, and immediately closed them against the stream of cold, grey light that was pouring in from his window. They flew open again as he realised where he was.

The strange and unbelievable events of the previous day came back to him in a flash, and he sat up sharply in bed.

The sudden movement made his head give an especially painful throb and the room around him spun sickeningly. He stumbled noisily out of bed, and then listened intently, not wanting any kind of interaction with his father. The house seemed silent.

It was a strange feeling, being back in his old bedroom. Once he inherited the house, naturally he slept in the larger of the two bedrooms, instead of the tiny, cramped room he had grown up in. The room had clearly hardly been touched since he had left home, and a few of his old possessions were still on the shelves. There was not much. Two wooden toy soldiers stood guard beside a few old story books. He eyed the books fondly; some of them had been presents from Lily. He picked up _The Hobbit_ and opened the front cover. An inscription inside read:

_Dear Severus,_

_Happy birthday! You introduced me to the world of magic, so I'm returning the favour. Our adventures might not contain dragons or treasure, but I can't wait to have them together. I hope this book gives you as much happiness as it always has me._

_Love_

_Lily xx_

Severus impatiently dried his eyes on the back of his hand as he read and re-read the inscription. Just as he was about to pocket the book in his robes and check another, a photograph fell from inside the pages and on to the floor. He bent down and picked it up. It was a still Muggle photograph that was hugely faded. It showed himself and Lily. They were probably about twelve. Lily laughed joyously while Severus stood beside her, a half-smile on his face as he looked, not into the camera, but at her.

He ran his fingers lightly over the faded image. It was so hard to believe that once upon a time he had been truly happy. He longed for that feeling once again, although it had been so long that he couldn't quite remember what it felt like. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and safely tucked the photograph back into the pages of the book before taking the other books off the shelf.

He needed coffee and he needed it immediately. He descended to the kitchen and smirked as he realised the oil lamps he had conjured the night before were still there. It amused him greatly to think of his father trying and failing to remove them. He considered leaving them there permanently, but a quick wave of his wand and they all vanished.

Rummaging in the pantry, he straight away found a jar of cheap instant coffee, offering up a silent _'thank you'_ to Merlin. He listened to the quiet of the house once more; his father was definitely not home. After filling the kettle with water and tapping it once with his wand, he made a strong, sweet, black coffee and sat at the kitchen table with the miniature horde of books.

The first one was _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. This one also had an inscription that read:

_Dear Sev,_

_Thank you so much for the Honeyduke's chocolate! I'm so jealous that you got to go with your mum. I can't wait to visit with you next year though! I reckon they must have got some of their ideas from this book. Or maybe the other way around!_

_Love_

_Lily xx_

The next two books, _Lord of the Flies_ and _Treasure Island_ had no inscription. He tossed them aside carelessly, and lifted the piping hot mug of coffee to his lips.

The last book was much smaller than the others. _The Velveteen Rabbit_. He opened the front cover and read:

_Severus,_

_Sorry if you think this is a bit childish. I just think sometimes you might need to remember. Sharp edges and people who break easily don't often become real, and I don't want that to happen to you._

_Lily xx_

He could barely see through the sheen of tears. The clock on the kitchen wall pronounced it to be 1:36 p.m. He had nearly seven and a half hours to kill until his meeting with Dumbledore. It didn't matter that she would probably refuse to be civil with him, he _had_ to speak with Lily. He had to show her that she had been right to believe in him when she wrote that inscription, that he had changed for the better, and _for her_.

He knew exactly where the Potters lived. He had visited the burnt-out ruined house so many times in his previous life, laying flowers at the scene where his love had died. He had no wish to draw too much attention to himself, and so quickly transfigured his cloak to look more like a Muggle coat, before he placed the inscribed books carefully in an inside pocket. After knocking back the dregs of his coffee, he took one last look around the kitchen and promised himself that he would not step foot inside the house again until his father was gone.

On his way out of the front door, he noticed his father's pouch of tobacco and rolling papers sat on the coffee table. Without thinking twice, he grabbed them and headed outside. The sky was heavy and bruised, the dark grey clouds promising rain. He turned his collar up against the wind, and after checking that he was not being watched he turned on the spot, emerging moments later on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow.

It was raining here already and within seconds Severus was utterly drenched but he didn't care. The need to speak to Lily burned within him, acting as a talisman against the cold and wet.

He barely paid any attention to where he was going: his feet had walked the path so many times that they carried him there automatically. Indeed, before he had time to mentally prepare himself he was there, in front of their house. It was strange seeing it as it always should have been; preserved and whole, rather than left in the half destroyed state and merely charmed to appear normal to Muggles. He crossed the road, and stood leaning against a lamppost and watching the house hungrily. He knew how suspicious this would look to strangers but he simply didn't care. He didn't care about the torrential rain falling around him that had soaked his clothes through to the skin, he didn't care about the icy wind blowing through the streets and he didn't care that the cold and rain were making him shiver and shake.

To calm his nerves somewhat he rolled a cigarette, quickly using his wand to light it before anyone could see him do magic. Now he just had to try and collect his thoughts enough to decide what he would say to her…

Suddenly there was movement behind one of the windows, and there she was. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her and he took a couple of steps closer. As he thought about the books that currently sat close to his heart, he was filled with a sudden determination. All he had to do was walk up to the front door and knock. That was all.

Something within the house made her turn her back to the window. Severus saw the form of James Potter approach her and she flung her arms around his neck. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her passionately. Lily began to giggle and James put his wife down then placed his hand over her belly. Had Lily just felt her baby, the infamous Harry Potter, moving inside her? After a moment a look of surprise and joy was showing on Potter's face.

His nerves gave out. It had been foolish— so very foolish—to come here. He backed away, desperately hoping to not be noticed, but too late. Potter looked up and out of the window, and for a moment Severus made eye contact with the person he hated more than anyone.

Potter's eyes widened, and Severus immediately turned to leave, almost knocking down a passing Muggle pedestrian. Thankfully, even James Potter wasn't stupid enough to attempt to curse him in front of a Muggle, but it also made his own escape more difficult. He had to run.

"Oi! Snivellus! Get back here!" He could hear James behind him, gaining on him. If he could just get away to the edge of town, he would be able to Disapparate to somewhere safe. But he was weak and cold and soaked to the bone, and James had always been more athletic. The footfalls behind him grew louder as James gained on him.

There was nothing he could do; James rugby tackled him around his waist and the ground rapidly approached him. He tried to twist out of James' grasp but the other man was much stronger. Severus was turned over on to his back and pinned down. He tried to push James away in vain. He felt James' fist connect with the side of his head and stars swam sickeningly in his vision.

"What are you doing, Snivelly? You spying on us? Huh?" Another punch, followed by another, this time to the other side of his face. "How do you know where we live? Did little Peter tell you? Working together with Voldemort, were you?" Another punch. Severus feebly threw his hands up to try and protect himself. In the distance he heard a woman's voice shouting, "I'm calling the police!" For a split second James was distracted but that was all he needed. Severus reached inside his pocket, grabbed his wand and muttered, _"Depulso,"_ under his breath. James was thrown off of him, giving him enough of a head start to duck out of sight around a corner and Disapparate away.

His first thought had been to return home, and it was only as he approached his front door that he remembered his earlier promise to himself to not return until his father was dead. He hesitated before turning away from the tiny house. If his memory served correctly, his hated father wasn't long for the world anyway….

A dreadful, battered face stared at him from the windows of every house as he walked past; his reflection showed that one of his eyes was puffy, swollen and barely open, and blood was coming from a cut in his lip. His nose also looked broken. Nothing he couldn't fix. Pointing his wand at his nose, he said, _"Episkey,"_ and winced as the bones cracked, moved back into place, and healed. Another wave of his wand healed the cut lip. The bruise would be trickier however; he knew of no effective spell to remove bruises and so would have to wait until he could brew a potion.

In the distance, a church bell rang twice. Two o'clock. Seven hours until his meeting with Dumbledore. And there was only one thing he could think of doing. With a renewed sense of purpose, he set off along the streets in a desperate search for alcohol to numb the incessant pain in his soul.

Minutes later he found himself in the saloon bar of the Crown and Anchor. There were already several other scruffy-looking men in the pub bent low over pints; the weight of all their own respective problems weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Severus approached the bar. He had no money but that didn't matter. "Whisky, double. And a pint of cider."

The barman eyed him suspiciously for a moment, his eyes lingering over Severus' battered face, and then procured the whisky from one of the optics. "Ninety-eight pence," he said, as he poured the pint into a filthy glass.

Severus' wand was in his hand, hidden under his sleeve. Resting his arm on the counter, he surreptitiously pointed the wand towards the barman and whispered, _"Confundus."_ Out loud, he said, "I've already paid you."

The barman looked confused as a half-formed false memory passed before his eyes. "Of course, sir," he said after a moment. "My apologies."

Severus took his prize over to a small table next to a dirty window. As he sipped at the purloined pint, memories from his childhood hit with the force of a sledgehammer; his father had always turned to drink when things had gotten too hard for him. He truly was his father's son.

He reached into his pocket and took out the pouch of stolen tobacco. After rolling and lighting a cigarette, he took a good look at his present surroundings. Grimy, tobacco stained walls, and grimy, tobacco stained people. He had never felt more at home.

Images of Lily, of how happy she was in her domestic bliss, came to the front of his mind. He tried to push them away but the more he tried to focus on anything else, the more he thought of her. He shook his head as if trying to rid it of an irksome fly and downed the second half of his pint, following it immediately with the whisky chaser. The alcohol hit his stomach, sending a strange mix of fire and ice spiraling through his body. He climbed shakily to his feet and stumbled back to the bar. "Same again," he said as the barman looked up towards him. "I've already paid."

The _Confundus_ charm was clearly still working on the barman as he drew off two more drinks and handed them over without question.

Severus took his drinks and slunk back to his darkened corner. Outside the rain had started to fall; he could hear the tapping of the drops against the window pane. In the distance thunder began to roll. He almost laughed at how much the weather was reflecting his mood.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about Lily. How many times had she comforted him as a child when his father had been blind drunk? When his drunkenness had turned to aggression, how many times had she been there with a kind word and a reassuring hug? How many bruises had he kept hidden from her when his father's rage had exploded out from him? And what would she say if she could see him now? He supposed that he would never know.

He took an especially large gulp of his pint, coughing and spluttering slightly. Why on Earth had he gone to Godric's Hollow? He had known nothing good would come of it. So why? What masochistic desperation had led him there?

His finger traced the edge of the pint glass, following the line of a single drip of condensation that raced down the outside. He needed more drink, whatever Lily would say be damned. And he'd need to get it now, while he was still able.

He approached the barman once more. "Bottle of whisky, please."

"This isn't an off license, sir. We can only sell alcohol for consumption on the premises."

"That's not a problem."

The barman raised his eyebrows but said nothing further. "That will be five pounds and twenty pence then, please sir."

While Severus made a show of looking through his pockets for money, he quickly checked the other patrons in the bar. All of them were lost in their own worlds and wouldn't notice a thing. As the barman placed the full bottle on the bar top, Severus pulled his wand out, pointed it directly at the man's face and whispered, " _Obliviate._ " The man's face went slack and he quickly hid the bottle inside his coat pocket. No one in the bar noticed a thing.

The barman blinked several times as if coming out of a heavy sleep. "What'll it be, sir?"

Severus used the _Confundus_ charm one last time to get another free cider. He finished his illegally procured drinks as quickly as possible, as several of the other patrons had noticed that the barman was beginning to act rather unusual; he kept pouring their pints directly onto the floor instead of into glasses as per usual.

The room span dangerously when he stood up but he managed to maintain his equilibrium. As he stumbled through the streets, swigging directly from a bottle of liquor, he became just another useless bum, a product of Thatcher's Britain.

Without realising where he was going, he soon found himself at the park where he had first approached Lily. He sat down on her favourite swing with no other purpose than to drink himself into oblivion.

Time began to pass in leaps and bounds. Such was the benefit of drinking with no other purpose than to forget. Although, the more he drank, the more a terribly unpleasant thought took hold of him, and the more he tried to shake it, the more it resonated within him. _'I'm in Hell,'_ he thought. _'I'm dead and this is my own personal Hell.'_

Each swig from the bottle seemed to solidify the thought. There could be no denying that he had died from the snake bite. And the fact he had been brought here, to a time where he would be forced to watch Lily grow older with the man he despised? That even though she was alive, she hated him and he would still be alone. It was as if the Devil had reached into his heart, and made manifest his greatest fear.

He downed the last drop of whisky and threw the bottle away from him, listening to the tinkling crash as it smashed against the ground. His head slumped forward, and he waited for the Devil to come and claim him.

It didn't take long. A tall figure appeared before him. "I always thought Hell'd be colder," he said, starting to laugh a completely humourless laugh. "S'what Dante said. Ninth circle. Traitors." He laughed once again as the figure came close to him and pulled him to his feet. "What torments've you got for me then, huh? Do yer worst. M'not afraid of you."

"I'm not here to hurt you."

"Yeah? Fucking crap Devil you are."

"I assure you, I'm not the Devil."

"But this in't heaven."

"I quite agree, it most certainly isn't."

"Well then. M'in Hell."

"Why would you be in Hell, Severus?"

"I fucked up. Harry. He's dead. Everyone's dead." Severus' legs gave out from under him, but the figure before him held him up with surprising strength. He began to weep. "I Failed. I'm sorry, Lils. I'm so sorry."

"Tell me, who is Harry?"

"Potter. Fuck you." He pushed the figure away with all of his drunken strength, and immediately fell to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.

There was a pause. The figure knelt down beside him and leant in towards Severus' face. Severus was vaguely aware of feeling like he was being x-rayed. After a moment the figure spoke. "How old are you, Severus?"

"Thirty eight." He began to laugh a completely mirthless laugh. " Y'know, they say life begins at forty. I shoulda waited a couple of years. Fuck it. I've had enough."

There was another pause. "I think we should continue this conversation with you sober, Severus." The figure stood up in front of him. Despite himself, despite his words that he wasn't afraid of further torment, Severus tensed himself, hugging his knees tightly. A hand moved in front of his eyes. Severus could immediately feel the alcohol being purged from his body. It was not a pleasant experience. Wave after wave of nausea swept over him, while the alcohol began to seep out of his pores in a cold sweat. A pounding headache began behind his eyes and spread over his entire cranium. His vision slowly returned, the light from the orange streetlights piercing his eyes.

Worst of all was the realisation that in his terribly inebriated state he had babbled certain delicate information to none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Good to have you back, Severus," said the old man, his eyes twinkling. "You were late to our meeting, so I felt it prudent to seek you out."

"Uhhnh," Severus grunted by way of a reply.

"I also heard from James Potter today. He was rather concerned that you knew the whereabouts of their address. Other, of course, than our dear friend Peter, do any more Death Eaters know where members of the Order live?"

Severus tried to shake his head but the movement produced too much pain for his hangover-addled head. He merely shrugged instead.

"I see."

There followed a long pause whereby Albus seated himself on a nearby swing and peered at Severus over the top of his spectacles. He seemed to be waiting for Severus to make the next move, to volunteer some information. However Severus kept his mouth firmly shut.

"In the meantime, you are clearly aware, Severus, that I used Legilimency on you a moment ago. All your guards were down. I saw some very interesting things." Dumbledore paused again, waiting for Severus to join in the conversation. The younger man kept his counsel. "Tell me, how did you die?"

The question struck Severus like a blow to his stomach, but he still refused to co-operate.

"Would it help if I told you that I died when I was fifty one, during a fierce battle with Gellert Grindlewald?"

Severus' head snapped up. "What?"

A sly smile crept across Dumbledore's face. "I suggest we return to Hogwarts and continue this conversation over a cup of tea, Severus. This really is a thrilling tale."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos so far. You really are giving me the inspiration and confidence to continue.
> 
> Anyway, there will be one more reasonably quick update after this, and then I'll have reached the point where I'm writing afresh, rather than rewriting and re-editing the old story.
> 
> Another bonus of delving back into the world of HP is that I'm really wanting to get back to writing The Lion in the Sett at some point so... Yeah. Keep your eyes out for that one!
> 
> Thank you all once again, and please do leave a review - it's a fan writer's only real form of reimbursement after all!
> 
> Oh yeah, and come say hi on tumblr too if you like.

For the second time in the past twenty-four hours, Severus found himself back in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. His mind was positively reeling both from the shock of what Dumbledore had told him and from his own self-inflicted headache. Could it be true? Had Dumbledore experienced something similar to him in his own past?

Dumbledore had insisted that Severus eat something before beginning his story, and waited patiently while Severus ravenously devoured a bowl of thick, steaming leek and potato soup, and several rounds of hot buttered toast. Once satisfied that Severus had eaten his fill, Dumbledore summoned an ornate china teapot and two delicate cups. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Two sugars. No milk."

Dumbledore handed him the cup before taking a seat at his desk. The Headmaster took a sip and sighed his appreciation. "Where to begin?" he whispered to himself.

Severus waited anxiously for Dumbledore to start his story, but the older man seemed in no hurry, and so Severus allowed his gaze to travel around the office—which until so recently had been his own—while Dumbledore collected his thoughts. His eyes alighted on one of the portraits. It was an exceptionally old and frail wizard, whom Severus remembered was not particularly given to manners. Indeed, at that moment, the man in the portrait was dedicating a great deal of effort to picking his nose. However, as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, even the portrait was interested enough to pause in his nasal excavations to listen.

"I am sure you are aware that in Nineteen-forty-five I fought and defeated Grindelwald in a rather famous battle. However, what is less known is that in our youths, Gellert and I were close friends. Indeed, we were much closer than just friends. I confess that I loved him." Dumbledore paused for a moment, and all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire in the grate.

"We were both —and I say this with as little ego as possible —exceptional. Exceptionally clever, exceptionally gifted, and exceptionally motivated.

"Now, at the time of our friendship, my young sister was dreadfully ill and had to be kept hidden from everyone, Muggles and wizards alike. Grindelwald convinced me that she was ill _as a result_ of being kept hidden. We had all these wild, crazy ideas about wizards and Muggles. We felt that wizards no longer needed to be in hiding, and that we should lead our magical brethren forward. That together, the two of us would take the world into a new era, with wizardkind at the helm.

"I was so swept up in these new ideas, so blinded for so long by my love for him, that I didn't see what he was becoming. He spoke constantly of Muggles being lesser than wizards, that we needed to rule over them rather than live alongside them, and I chose to ignore the darker implications of his statements, believing instead that it would all be done for the greater good. Even when we parted company and he delved further and further into the Dark Arts I turned a blind eye, convinced as I was that the good in him would win over.

"As he grew in power, I was asked time and again to put a stop to him. Time and again I made my excuses until it became apparent that I could no longer ignore him. Rumours reached me that he was raising an army, readying himself to come out in the open, to place all Muggles under his subservience one and for all. I could not allow that to happen and so I faced him at last. As you are aware, I won the battle and to this day Grindelwald remains locked in Nurmengard." He paused once more in his story, and took a sip of tea.

"That is only half the story," he continued. "What would you say if I told you that at one time I helped Grindelwald achieve his aims? That I stayed by his side and wizardkind was known amongst the general populace at last, and Muggles were crushed beneath our heels?"

Severus gaped at him, trying to process the incredible story.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" said Dumbledore, chuckling slightly. "But there we were, side by side, destroying anyone who defied us. Nurmengard was full of people who had opposed our plans, and any Muggles who tried to rally against us 'disappeared.' Muggles became like slaves to wizardkind and all the time I kept deluding myself that it was all for the best—that eventually the Muggles would thank us. As long as I had Grindelwald by my side, as long as I lied to myself that he loved me in the same way that I loved him, I was able to ignore the suffering. We took Britain first, and then other Dark Wizards in other countries, enamoured by what we were doing, followed our example."

Severus sat rapt despite the pressure in his temples, while Dumbledore brushed a stray tear from the corner of his eye.

"One day I woke up. It had been a long time coming, I recall. I was responsible for escorting a young Muggle man to Nurmengard for the crime of refusing to bow low before Gellert as he passed by. I took him to his cell, wrought with guilt that he was being unfairly punished for such a small misdemeanour.

"The prison was overflowing with Muggles and wizards, young and old. Some were kept there indefinitely, some were held only for a matter of days or weeks before they 'disappeared.' There was a young Muggle woman locked up with a screaming child, no older than about four or five. I asked her what her crime was. She told me a wizard had wanted her. Her husband had stood up to the wizard and as a result had lost his life. And as a punishment for his impudence she had been locked up with her young child for the last seven months. Her belly was swollen. The wizard had raped her, left her pregnant and locked her up along with her young daughter. She begged me to spare her daughter, she begged me to take her away and hide her. My heart broke as I listened to her pleas.

"But for the first time in years, I was awake. Nothing was worth what I saw that day. It no longer mattered that my sister didn't have to hide. What good was it that she could be free and in the open, if the world we had created was so full of fear and hate? I swore at that moment that I would not rest until I could overthrow Grindelwald. He was no longer the young man I had fallen in love with—he had become monstrous. I promised the young woman I would help her in anyway I could."

Fawkes interrupted Dumbledore's story by warbling a low, mournful tune. He flew from his perch and landed on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore reached a shaking hand out towards the phoenix, gently stroking the feathers. After a moment he continued.

"As Grindelwald's right-hand man I was afforded a certain level of privileges when it came to prisoners. I was able to request transfers from the guards without arousing suspicion, and immediately I requested of the guards that the woman and her child be released into my custody. I told the guards that their time had come and that it was time for them to be executed. They were released to me without question. I was easily able to smuggle them away. I found them a house in the middle of the countryside, with no neighbours for miles around. I placed a Fidelius Charm over the house so that they would be safe. Once a week I visited them and made sure they were safe and happy. I comforted myself that I had helped, that I had saved innocent lives.

"However, a fire had been lit inside me. One family was not enough. I took it upon myself to save more. I began setting up safe houses around the country. I would visit Nurmengard and take people away from there, placing them under my direct protection. No one questioned me. No one ever suspected me.

"But it was still not enough. I needed help. So far I had only rescued Muggles from Nurmengard and made it my mission to rescue witches and wizards as well. I persuaded them to help me look after those in my care already, and help me set up new, stronger protective spells. I had a vision of creating an entire village or town that could be placed under a huge Fidelius spell. Naturally the inhabitants would have to stay there indefinitely to remain safe, but they could live normal lives without being under the spell of fear that Grindelwald and I had placed the rest of the country under.

"Gradually more and more wizards came forward to us. Whispers had reached them of a movement that was working against their oppressive overlords. Imagine their surprise when at the head of the resistance movement was none other than yours truly—one of the hated wizards who had set up the terrible regime in the first place!

"And so we worked, tirelessly hiding Muggles, finding safe places for them to live, and smuggling prisoners away from Nurmengard. I have no idea how many souls we managed to save from that terrible place. Finally it became clear that there were enough of us to overthrow Grindelwald. He was more powerful than any wizard had ever been. And I knew that it would have to be me to take him down.

"Several years after I first started to rebel, I faced him at long last. My army against his. He was saddened that I had changed my stance but more than happy that he would no longer have to share power. The battle that ensued was terrible. I have no idea how long it lasted, but many, many witches, wizards, and Muggles died that day. Grindelwald had eyes for no-one else but me in the battle, and likewise I fought no one but him. No one else dared to get close to us. Eventually we were both weakened enough for one or the other to win. I was the lucky one. His curse struck me directly over my heart.

"Why do I count myself as the lucky one? Because if I had won that battle I am certain the world would have been a much worse place. By dying trying to do the right thing I am certain I was given a second chance at life. A chance to right a terrible wrong.

"I awoke at my mother's funeral. I remembered the day clearly. I didn't understand how, or why, but I knew that a decision I had made at that moment had affected the future in a terrible way, and I had a choice to change it.

"My brother was trying to point out what a fool I was. Grindelwald tried to silence him with the _Cruciatus_ curse. Originally I had allowed Grindelwald to torture my poor brother, and had immediately fled the scene with him. That was my mistake, I knew that. I stood up to Grindelwald, I stopped him from torturing my dear brother, but a fight broke out and..." Dumbledore paused in his story, pain clearly etched across his features. "My little sister was dead." He paused once more, clearly lost in a world of hurt. After drying his eyes with a cotton handkerchief, he said, "Grindelwald fled the scene. I thought that would be enough. I convinced myself that our not being together would prevent the terrible deeds that Grindelwald had performed. To the most extent I was right." He smiled a self-deprecating smile and stroked Fawkes, who cooed and warbled appreciatively. "So, Severus, what mistake did you make? What are you doing differently this time?"

Severus was utterly in shock. His mind reeled from Dumbledore's story. "Where do you want me to begin?" he eventually asked.

"I'd like to hear everything you can tell me. But let's start at the end. What were the circumstances of your death?"

Severus shuddered at the bluntness of the question. "I rather think I could do with some more caffeine."

Dumbledore waved his wand and a silver tray appeared on his desk, bearing a fresh pot of tea, a full cafetiere, a jug of milk, another of cream, and bowl of brown and white sugar cubes. A second wave of his wand produced a plate of biscuits, and a third summoned a bowl full of mint humbugs and lemon sherbets. "Take your pick, Severus."

He poured himself a mug of coffee from the cafetiere and carefully dropped two sugar cubes inside, stirring delicately while he gathered his own thoughts in order. His head was still pounding and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, causing little white stars to burst into his vision.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he began, "I was killed by the Dark Lord less than twenty-four hours ago. Or more specifically, by his pet snake. I had, for many years, been working as a spy against him." His mouth went suddenly dry and he took a shaking sip of coffee.

"And your cover was blown?"

"Not at all," answered Severus, his pride stung somewhat. "He killed me because it would…" He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"Go on," encouraged the older wizard.

He swallowed heavily, looking anywhere but into Dumbledore's eyes. "Because it would ensure that he became the owner of the Elder Wand. Look," he said, pulling the pouch of tobacco from his pocket. "Do you mind if I…?"

Dumbledore looked rather disapproving but nodded his acquiescence. "Of course. And perhaps beginning at the end was rather too complicated. We should clearly go back to the very start."

After several deep drags on his cigarette, Severus began to recount his tale. "Originally I told the Dark Lord everything that I had heard of the prophecy. That one single act took me from being entirely disposable to him, to placing me directly into his inner circle. On the thirty-first of July Lily gave birth to her son—Harry." Severus paused to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "Not long after his birth, the Dark Lord decided that Lily's son was the one to whom the prophecy referred. He announced his intention to go after the family. I begged him to spare Lily. He agreed but I was concerned for her safety. I came to you and told you of his intentions. You agreed to keep the family safe and I promised you my life and loyalty in return.

"You did your best, but every one of us was deceived by Pettigrew. A Fidelius Charm was placed over them, and we all believed Black to be the Secret Keeper. Unbeknownst to us all, he wasn't. Turns out that neither Black nor the Potters trusted their tame little werewolf by that stage; they all believed that he had turned traitor, and so, in order to deceive Lupin, and keep themselves safe, they made Pettigrew the Secret Keeper at the last minute. They told no-one. Pettigrew delivered them directly to the Dark Lord."

Severus paused again, taking several deep inhalations on his cigarette. "He went to their home on Halloween night, nineteen eighty-one. They thought they were safe. The Dark Lord broke in. He killed Potter and went for Harry. Lily tried to stop him." Severus broke in his story, as several tears fell from his eyes. "He told her to stand aside but she refused. She pleaded with the Dark Lord to take her instead. To spare Harry's life. He refused. Killed her. He then tried to kill Harry, but somehow the curse rebounded upon himself."

"The curse rebounded?" repeated Dumbledore. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Did Voldemort die?"

"Everyone thought so. Everyone except you, that is. You were convinced he would return. You sent Harry to live with his Muggle relatives and made me promise I would do everything in my power to keep him safe."

"And Harry? Did he suffer any side effects from the curse?"

"He did. He seemed to share a connection with the Dark Lord's mind. At first it manifested as a sharp pain when the Dark Lord was near or angry. As he regained his power this connection became stronger; Harry could sometimes see exactly what the Dark Lord was doing and thinking. He also had the ability to speak Parseltongue. Eventually you concluded that part of the Dark Lord's soul had attached itself to Harry's own when the curse rebounded, and it was this that had forged the link between them."

"So I was correct in my hypothesis? Voldemort returned?"

"He did. It took more than one attempt but he came back."

"Describe these attempts, please."

Severus leant forward in his seat and helped himself to a second sweet, black coffee. "His first attempt was the year Harry Potter began at Hogwarts. Your friend—Nicholas Flamel— was concerned about the safety of the Philosopher's Stone he had created and so it was moved to Hogwarts. You had all of us teachers put every protection we could think of on it."

"You were a teacher at Hogwarts?"

Severus smiled a tight smile. "Horace Slughorn will be retiring at the end of the next school year. You hired me as his replacement."

"And I am sure you did an admirable job. Please continue."

It was so difficult trying to reconcile the two timelines, and Severus frowned as he tried to recall what had come to pass already. "May I ask who is your current Muggle Studies teacher?"

"Quirinus Quirrell. He started with us in September."

Severus nodded. "Well, probably best that you don't let him any closer to the Dark Arts than he needs to be."

This piece of news clearly piqued Dumbledore's interest and he sat up straighter in his chair. "Oh, really?"

"I have no wish to turn you against him," Severus said, holding his hands up. "As I recall, over the years that we worked together, Quirrell was a hard working man, quiet and studious. It was just unfortunate that after taking a year's sabbatical, he encountered the broken spirit of the Dark Lord, who took possession of his body. The Dark Lord coerced Quirrell into attempting to steal the Stone. However, his attempt was thwarted by Potter and his friends. Potter got to the stone first, and so the Dark Lord tried to steal it back from him. He couldn't touch him; Lily's sacrifice gave him protection. The Dark Lord fled from Quirrell's body, killing him in the process."

"And this happened in Harry's first year at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked. Severus nodded in the affirmative. "Quite a feat for an eleven year old. When did he next try to return?"

"You could say that he nearly came back during Potter's second year, although that was not exactly of his own doing. The Dark Lord had kept a diary of his time at Hogwarts, a diary that had the power to open the fabled Chamber of Secrets. He had preserved his sixteen year old self in this diary and given it to Lucius Malfoy to keep safe. Lucius had other ideas, however. As an act of spite— hoping, no doubt, to discredit Arthur Weasley's work in Muggle relations— Malfoy slipped the diary to the Weasley's youngest child. From what I understand the diary appeared blank, but when written in the Dark Lord's young self wrote back. She poured her heart and soul into this diary and thus he was able to possess her. Under his direction, she re-opened the Chamber of Secrets, setting the monster inside on several Muggleborn students. He had fed on her private thoughts and fears to the extent that he was able to physically leave the diary. He was almost real. He would have been too, had Saint Potter not stepped in once again."

Dumbledore leant forward. "So, Harry thwarted him again?"

Severus jerked in his head in a manner that was vaguely reminiscent of a nod. "He slew the Basilisk that dwelled there, and using one of the Basilisk's fangs punctured the diary. The young Tom Riddle who was physically manifesting disappeared."

"What a remarkable young man," said Dumbledore in a low voice. "To have defeated Voldemort three times before his thirteenth birthday."

Severus looked away in irritation. "He was lucky," he bit back. He angrily stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and immediately began to roll another.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow towards Severus but did not press the matter further. "I am very interested in this diary, Severus. I should very much like to see it. I am most concerned as to how Voldemort managed to preserve his memories in such a form. Do you believe Lucius is in possession of it now?"

"It is possible, I suppose."

"If there is any way at all that you could procure this diary for me to look at, I should be most grateful. I feel that we could learn a great deal from it."

The Headmaster's tone was light, but it was clear that this was a serious mission. Severus nodded. "I don't see how, but I will try."

"Thank you, Severus. Please continue your story, I am finding all this most enlightening."

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "He finally returned during Potter's fourth year. Black escaped from Azkaban the year before and helped to expose Pettigrew as the traitor that he was." Snape paused as the memory of that night came back to him. He had been so sure, so utterly certain that Black was guilty. After all, he had been entirely capable of sadism as a child… "Pettigrew managed to escape justice once again. He fled the country and found the Dark Lord's broken self. With— as I understand it— a great deal of ….coaching and coercion, Pettigrew helped the Dark Lord grow in strength, and even created a rudimentary body for him.

"Using the help of Bartemius Crouch, Jnr, who was stationed at Hogwarts at the time, they kidnapped Harry and used his blood to create a potion that brought the Dark Lord back to full health. Naturally, however, it had not been part of their plan that Harry survive. But when he and the Dark Lord duelled he was once again unable to kill. Potter was able to return to Hogwarts with the news that the Dark Lord had finally returned."

A small frown creased Dumbledore's brow. "I take it he used the boy's blood in order to negate Lily's sacrifice. How was Harry able to survive a duel against Voldemort without that protection?"

"It was their wands. Their wands shared a core and so could not properly battle against each other. Yet again, Potter survived through nothing but blind luck."

The ghost of a smile passed over Dumbledore's face. "I take it this was why Voldemort was trying to become the master of the Elder Wand?"

Severus jerked his head briefly. This was not a subject he felt especially comfortable discussing.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me asking, Severus, but would you explain to me how it is that Voldemort would hope to become its master by killing you?"

Severus immediately became extremely interested in the dregs at the bottom of his coffee. "I suppose it was because he had heard the bloody stories of how the Elder Wand passes from wizard to wizard."

"Naturally," said Dumbledore. "Anyone paying attention in History of Magic would have heard them. I suppose what I'm really asking is why _I_ was no longer its master."

Severus ground his teeth together. Dumbledore was having far too much fun questioning him. "You were dead."

"Was I? How dreadfully inconvenient! And may I ask how did that happen?"

It took all of his composure to keep from raging at the older man. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and took several silent deep, calming breaths. "I don't know what utterly idiotic notion possessed you, but a year prior to your death, you tried on a ring that was cursed. I tried to save you. I managed to contain the curse to your arm but… there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I told you that you had maybe a year left.

"At this time Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco, had foolishly joined the Death Eaters. He was given the impossible task of murdering you. Lucius proved to be quite a disappointment to the Dark Lord, so making Draco to kill you, knowing that he would fail and have to pay the ultimate price was his penance. And so you made me promise that, as you were dying anyway, I would not allow Draco to become a murderer. And that I was to help him, and guide him, and ultimately…" Severus swallowed the dreadful lump that had appeared in his throat. "Ultimately take over from him, sealing my position as a spy within the Dark Lord's ranks."

"How old was Draco when this happened?"

"Barely sixteen."

"I can't imagine that either Lucius or Narcissa would take the death sentence of their son lying down, even if it was in the service of Voldemort."

"They didn't," said Severus. "Narcissa came to me. She made me take the Unbreakable Vow that I would help him. And take over from him if it looked as though he would fail."

"You promised two separate people that you would kill me?" chuckled Dumbledore. "Well, at least your services were in demand."

It was too much for Severus to take. He stood up sharply, causing Fawkes to spread his wings in alarm and fly away. "So is this all a game to you? You didn't care before when I was forced to become a murderer for you, and you don't care now!" The weight of everything forced itself down on his chest, making it harder to breathe. His hands fisted into his hair as he felt himself losing control.

"Severus," said Dumbledore standing up and raising his palms in a gesture of apology. "Please, sit down. I am sorry. I am entirely guilty of using morbid humour at inappropriate moments. I apologise."

"You made me damage my soul for you. You turned me into something dreadful, something I never wanted to be, and you just—you can't…"

"Your soul is entirely whole and safe. I doubt you would be here if it were not."

"You don't care—"

"I do. I really do, Severus. And clearly so do you. That in itself should show you how undamaged your soul is."

Very slowly, Severus's breathing returned to normal, and he sat down. He felt a burning heat across his cheeks and the back of his neck and refused to look at Dumbledore.

"Well, Severus, this actually leads me onto a very important topic. Tell me, what is it that makes us human?"

"Albus, I am far too tired and far too hungover to delve into the realm of metaphysics. If you have something to say, then say it, dammit. Stop trying to draw the answers you already know out of me."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched into a smile. "The soul, Severus. The soul. When one commits a terrible act—such as murder—and feels not a drop of remorse, the soul becomes unstable. Voldemort, who is no stranger to murder but very much a stranger to remorse has, over the years, become less and less human. I think we may be witnessing the outward side-effects of the damage done to his soul. But there is something more to this than mere murder and atrocities; after all, even a man such as Grindelwald, who is responsible for some of the worst massacres and genocides in history, has remained physically human. No. There is something darker at work here. The fact that you told me Voldemort's soul had become so unstable that when his curse rebounded, a part of his soul broke away gives me a vague idea of what he may have done. That is not the work of any 'normal' evil. I strongly believe this rather interesting diary of his may give me another clue. So may I press upon you once more the importance of obtaining it?"

Severus took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. "I will, if you really believe it to be that important. But Albus, in my last life you refused to tell me anything. You had me running around, doing your bidding, hanging from the Dark Lord's elbow, and you refused to tell me anything about your theories, or even your 'vague ideas.' Not this time. I want to know everything."

With some satisfaction, Severus noted that Dumbledore looked highly uncomfortable. He removed his spectacles from the end of his nose, polished them delicately, then replaced them. "I don't know if that is such a good idea, Severus. It would be highly dangerous to have someone that close to Voldemort know too much—"

Severus waved a dismissive hand and cut across him. "I never failed to lie to him. Perhaps the notion that someone could use Occlumency against him is so utterly inconceivable that he fails to notice it? I don't know for certain. But I _can_ lie to him. And he has never suspected otherwise. You told everything to a frankly mediocre boy whose mind was penetrated with absurd ease, who had a direct link to the mind of the Dark Lord himself, and even now you still refuse to share your ideas with me? If you want me to be at your beck and call, you have to tell me _why_."

Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles, and Severus stared straight back into those piercing blue eyes. He refused to back down. After everything he had been through, Dumbledore owed him an explanation at least. Eventually the older wizard looked away. "You are right, Severus. I will share my thoughts with you. But please, get me the diary first. It will allow me to confirm whether or not my hypothesis is correct. If it proves to be, you have my word that I will keep nothing from you."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you. Severus, you have probably already helped more than you could possibly realise. But I really cannot impress on you enough how important it is that we get hold of that diary. If it is already in Malfoy's possession it may well be possible to find in his Manor. How close are you to Lucius?"

"We are certainly on speaking terms. He may even consider me a friend, even if I am not an equal in terms of stature and nobility." Despite the excess of caffeine in his system, exhaustion suddenly caught up with him and Severus yawned widely.

Dumbledore looked at the young wizard and spoke with real concern. "You have been through a very great deal these last two days. Stay here tonight and sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and we can start a fresh. We have a lot of work ahead of us and I will require you to be at your best. A room will be made up for you if you wish."

"Thank you."

Dumbledore stood up and Severus followed. Together they descended the spiral stairs from Dumbledore's office to the rest of the castle. Severus numbly followed along in Dumbledore's wake, walking down corridors and through passageways until they found themselves outside a wooden door not far from the library. "You may stay here as long as needed. Sleep well, Severus."

Severus watched as the older man swept away down the corridor. Feeling as though he could sleep where he stood, Severus pushed the door open.

A four poster bed was made up already, with a set of black pyjamas neatly folded on top of the pillows. Beside the bed, resting upon a wooden cabinet, was an enormous mug of steaming hot chocolate. A door in the room led through to a compact but comfortable bathroom. He pulled on the clean pyjamas and collapsed on top of the bed, falling into a restless sleep before he was able to get under the covers.


	5. Chapter 5

His sleep was punctuated by terrible nightmares of snakes and their piercing fangs, of blood and poison, and of a terrible exhaustion brought on by an endless search for an unknown object. When at last he awoke, Severus felt barely rested at all.

At first he tried to fall back to sleep, but his muscles were stiff and aching. Eventually he gave it up as a bad job and swung his legs over the edge, forcing the rest of his body to sit up.

The weather was as bad as it had been since his return, and he paused to rub the sleep from his eyes before he dragged himself from the warmth of the bed. He pulled the duvet from the bed before draping it over his shoulders and walking over towards the window.

The rain fell in huge drops, pelting against the window. In the grounds Severus could see a group of students, huddled together with their heads down, as they made their way towards the greenhouses. He did not envy them one bit, and gratefully pulled the duvet closer around himself. As he watched one of the smaller students get blown off course he realised with a sinking dread that Albus would probably be expecting him to head out into this as well. Surely the old man would allow him just one day to try and rest and recuperate?

With one last glance out of the window, Severus sighed and turned around. A gleaming silver tray that was sat on the bedside cabinet caught his eyes. While he had been staring out of the window, one of the Hogwarts house elves had clearly been in, silently providing him with breakfast. Still wrapped in the duvet, he perched on the edge of the bed and helped himself to fresh coffee and several sweet, warm croissants, desperately putting off the inevitable moment where he would be summoned to do the bidding of one of his two masters.

No sooner had the thought gone through his mind, than there was a knock at the door. Severus glared silently at it, trying to calculate the precise amount of time he should keep the old man waiting in order to show his disdain and his need for just one single day to himself.

A second knock at the door. With a very great deal of effort, Severus stood up, shaking his head to himself very slightly. As if his personal wants or needs had ever been granted, or even vaguely taken into consideration!

He fixed his best glower onto his face and swung the door open.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Good morning, Severus. I trust you are well rested?"

Severus raised a single eyebrow at the comment, and looked pointedly at the fact that he was still wrapped in a duvet, quite clearly not wanting to be disturbed.

"Excellent," continued Dumbledore. "Then you know why I'm here. I'm a firm believer that there's no time like the present, and as such, I would like you to pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy today. I am not expecting you to return with the diary tonight, merely try to glean some information as to its whereabouts."

"As you can see, my schedule is already quite full today," said Severus, gesturing to the empty room with a sweep of his arm. He turned his back to the older wizard and wandered back to the window. He could feel Dumbledore's gaze penetrating him.

"Severus, I know that what I am asking of you is both difficult and dangerous. However, you have proven that you more than capable of coping with anything Lucius can throw at you. If you can lie to a wizard as powerful as Voldemort for years, survive death itself and still be willing to fight as you are, then dealing with Lucius Malfoy should be simple."

Severus nodded to himself. There was something else nagging at him, he just didn't know how to phrase it…

As always, Dumbledore sensed his anxiety and discomfort, and managed to form the question that Severus wasn't entirely aware he needed to ask. "Will you return home after today?"

"I don't have a home," snapped Severus.

"So where were you staying before?" asked Dumbledore

Severus answered with a shrug of his shoulders. He was certain his belongings would turn up eventually, but he was not looking forward to the awkward questions he would have to ask his past 'friends' in order to find them.

"Do you have money?"

Severus shook his head abruptly, still staring out of the window. One of the Hogwarts Thestrals chose that moment to fly out of the Forbidden Forest, circle around twice, and dive back down towards the darkened, wind-swept trees. The sight made him grateful that he was not a superstitious man.

"Well, we can't have that," said Dumbledore. He paused for a moment before continuing. "For today, Lucius can wait. I don't expect that diary will go anywhere in the next few days. And I suppose that as you are now, in one capacity or another, working for me, it would be only polite and proper for me to reimburse you financially. After all, running around and spying on Voldemort's actions do not tend to leave the individual much time for regular work." He reached into a pocket in his robes and drew out a small bag filled with coins. "Here. Until I can think of an official job title for you that can place you upon Hogwart's accounting books, I will see to it personally that you no longer have to resort to Confunding Muggles in order to feed yourself."

"I don't need your charity, Albus."

"And I don't need you to become a petty criminal, when you could just as easily put your pride to one side and accept the money."

Dumbledore held the purse out in front him, and Severus begrudgingly snatched it away. "I have no wish to live here," he said, looking down at the money he held in his hands. "Not until I come back to teach."

"That is understandable," said Dumbledore. "And as that is your money now, it is entirely up to you how you spend it. Personally I would suggest looking in the classified adverts section of _The Daily Prophet_."

Forty five minutes later, Severus found himself sat in Madame Petit-Fours' Sensational Sweets & Cakes, a tearoom on the south side of Diagon Alley, a copy of the _Prophet_ in hand, meticulously scouring the adverts for anything at all in his limited price range.

Having never in his life had to do it before, Severus very quickly decided that house hunting rated amongst his least favourite activities. It appeared that if he wanted to live alone, he would either need to make at least double what Dumbledore had offered him, or be willing to live in a damp, cold, rat-infested hovel.

He barely looked at the waitress who took his order as he bent low over the newspaper. Despite the fact that he knew he would be comfortable and warm, Severus had no wish to return to Hogwarts if he could help it. He wondered at this. Perhaps it was the knowledge that at Hogwarts Dumbledore would be breathing down his neck closer than ever, and that for the first time ever in his life, he had a vague approximation of freedom.

The waitress returned with his coffee and a slice of chocolate cake, placing them down in front of him. Before she could withdraw her hand, he absent-mindedly reached for them. For a split second, his pale white hand brushed against her dark brown one, and he apologised profusely, pulling away from her.

"No need to apologise," said the waitress but instead of leaving, she hovered in front of him. "It's Severus, right?" At the sound of his name, Severus looked up at

her at last, instantly taken aback. He had not been paying any attention to her at all, but recognised her immediately as Charity Burbage, former Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts.

It was as if a led weight had dropped in his stomach. The last time he had seen her was as her corpse was slowly eaten by Nagini, just minutes after she pleaded with him to save her. She had always been kind to him—kinder by far than his brusque conversation had really deserved. Indeed, she was the closest thing he had to a friend at Hogwarts. He had left Malfoy Manor after that particular meeting, shaking from head to toe and once alone had vomited until his stomach was empty and sore. Seeing her alive was yet another stark reminder of how many deaths he had caused in his previous existence.

She mistook his cool mask as a blank look. "Sorry," she said. "It's Charity. Charity Burbage. I was in the year above you at school. Ravenclaw prefect."

He tried to shake the grotesque image of her dead body out of his mind. "It's a pleasure to see you again," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"You too," she smiled, and Severus was taken aback when he did not detect a single note of sarcasm in her voice. "So…." she added, "are you up to much at the moment?"

"Not a great deal," Severus said, bending back over the newspaper.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

Severus shrugged as he continued to scan the paper. "Somewhere to live. Preferably habitable."

She made an amused sound of exclamation, and said, "Small world! I'm looking for a new house mate." He looked questioningly up at her as she smiled and said, "Enjoy your cake," before returning to behind the tearoom's counter.

Severus watched her go, a slight frown creasing his eyebrows. Surely she could not have intended to mean what he thought she did…? After all, in this reality they had barely ever spoken…

Of course she didn't. It was absurd to even think someone could be so forward! He reached for his dessert fork and pulled the plate of chocolate cake closer, taking a small, delicate bite, followed immediately by a much larger mouthful. It was quite the most delicious thing he had ever eaten, and he finished it in seconds. He chanced a glance over to where Charity was writing down the order of an elderly witch and wizard who had just taken a seat at a table by the window.

For a moment she looked back towards his table and caught him staring in her direction. He immediately returned his gaze to the newspaper, although he was finding it tremendously difficult to focus on the words.

"That didn't last long! Can I get you another?" Charity was back beside him, indicating the empty plate. The suddenness of her appearance made him jump slightly.

"No, thank you."

"Or anything else?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you." He watched as she took the plate and walked away. As soon as he returned his attention to the pages of _The Prophet_ , a rather strange impulse awoke in his chest, and before he knew what he was doing he called out to her. "Yes, actually."

She stood before him, an almost knowing smile creasing the corners of her warm, dark brown eyes.

"If it is not too forward or inappropriate… might I enquire as to what kind of person you are looking for?"

"Well, it's a flat in Muggle London, owned by a Muggle landlord, so they'd have to be discreet about using magic. I lived with a Muggle previously and was considering living with another, but I'd quite like to be able to use a little magic at home, so…. Yes, I'd say discreet is a must. Other than that, I'm open to suggestions."

"Well, I am discretion itself…"

The half-smile that had threatened to make itself shown earlier appeared in full. "I finish at five o'clock," she said. "Come back then, and I'll take you to have a look at it, ok?"

Severus thanked her and paid for the coffee and cake, making sure to leave a rather generous tip. As he left the tearoom he felt strangely light, as if a weight that usually hung about his shoulders had lifted somewhat. Not gone entirely, just…lighter somehow.

At five o'clock Severus returned, and she looped her arm through his, and Apparated them both to a dingy, narrow alleyway surrounded on both sides by high concrete walls. "So, if you decide to take it, I find this is the best place to Apparate to. It's always deserted around here."

"Do you Apparate here alone, at night?" Severus asked her, to which she nodded. "I'm not entirely certain I like the sound of that. This seems a rather….unsavoury area."

"Thanks for your concern, but don't worry about me, I've never had any problems. I feel far safer here in Muggle London than I do in the Wizarding World at the moment, to be honest. You just don't know who you can trust."

Severus' eyes involuntarily shot towards his left arm. He knew that the Dark Mark was hidden, but the idea of her accidentally seeing it filled him with a terrible discomfort. Indeed, the weight that had lifted earlier seemed to return at her words, as a dreadful reminder that he still had so many dangerous obligations to others.

The flat was compact but comfortable, and the room that Charity was offering was almost as big as the master bedroom back at Spinner's End. A double bed took up half of the room, while a small writing desk and single wardrobe took up most of the rest.

"The rent for this room is £30 a week, which works out to about six Galleons, and then there are a few bills on top of that, but not much. So—"

"It's ideal," said Severus before she could continue. "Absolutely perfect."

"In that case, whenever you can move your things here, it's yours."

Severus looked down at the robes he was stood in. "This is basically everything I own," he admitted. "So if it is not inconvenient to you…"

She grinned, and ran a hand over the short, tight curls that covered her head. "In that case, welcome home, I guess!"

Living with Charity was unlike anything else he had ever experienced. She allowed him his space to sit quietly and read alone if he chose to, but didn't seem to mind his presence if she happened to be in the communal living space. Indeed, there were a couple of evenings where a bottle of wine was shared between them that Severus started to think that she actually enjoyed his presence, rather than merely tolerated it.

She had some rather eccentric habits, which he supposed came from living so closely with Muggles, and Severus couldn't help but admire how her eccentricity had clearly grown into strong convictions by the time they had met in his previous life. She definitely already preferred Muggle culture to Wizard, and introduced him to some of her favourite Muggle bands and singers, promising to take him along to watch some of them live one day. Not only was she interested in Muggle culture, she was well versed in their politics too, and had many interesting opinions on how Muggle politics affected the Wizarding World too, and how all witches and wizards should take an interest in their politics as a result. She had even stopped eating meat as a result of the views of her last housemate, something that Severus could not help but mock her about. She took his jibes well, and mocked him just as openly in return, but what surprised him was that he never felt hurt or offended by her taunts.

Indeed, he was enjoying spending time in her company so much that after a week, he had made no effort whatsoever to contact Dumbledore or to make his way to Malfoy Manor. And so the owl that arrived on the eighth morning reminding him not only of the dire importance of his mission, but also of the fact that he was actually being paid to achieve results, was hardly unexpected, even if it was more unwelcome than dragon pox.

What Severus had not expected was how the letter would make him feel. It brought him back to reality with a resounding crash. Charity was not at home when it arrived it, and he desperately wished that she were there, that he could confess everything to her, that he could tell her of his role as a double agent. But their friendship— _was it a friendship?_ he thought. _It certainly felt that way_ —was still so new, so delicate, that he was terrified of breaking it.

Other unwelcome thoughts began to pile in on him. Why had his first thought been of Charity, and not of Lily? It felt as though he had betrayed his one true love, and the burden of that betrayal sat heavy on his chest, making it all too difficult to breathe. Why had he been running away from responsibility? Why had he been running away from _her_? From everything he had always held dear?

Whenever the loneliness had become too crippling, or whenever he questioned his own existence or his reasons for his double life in his previous reality, he had cast a Patronus. Seeing the perfectly beautiful silver doe galloping before him was always a stark reminder of what he still had to accomplish. He held his wand out in front of him, and cried, " _Expecto Patronum_!"

A silver mist shot from his wand, but it wasn't the doe. It had no form whatsoever. He had never in his life had trouble conjuring a Patronus. It was most disconcerting. He tried again, allowing the thought that Lily was alive to fill his entire being.

 _Yes, she's alive. But she'll never want you_ , said a small voice in the back of his mind.

It doesn't matter. She's alive, replied a smaller, fainter voice.

_Alive and hates you._

She'll learn not to.

_Will she? Or will you grow old, still watching her from afar, still desperate for attention that is never going to come? You'll die alone and she won't even care enough to come to the funeral. Who would?_

She cares.

_Stop lying to yourself._

She cares.

_Why would she?_

"She cares!" he shouted out loud, banishing the other voice from his mind. " _Expecto Patronum_!" The doe burst from the end of his wand at last, but there was something strangely ill-defined about it, the light it cast not as bright as it should have been, the edges somewhat blurred and fuzzy, as if the light it created was trying to escape its own body.

In anger he waved his wand, and the ill-looking doe vanished without a trace. He hastily wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve, and without thinking stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

He Apparated to outside Malfoy Manor. The rain was falling heavily here, and in his anger he managed to land awkwardly, covering the bottom of his robes with a splattering of mud. Cursing out loud, he quickly walked the familiar path to the huge wrought iron gates that barred his entrance. Vague plans formed in his mind and were just as quickly dismissed. In truth, he had no idea what he could say or do to try and find this accursed diary.

The fleur-de-lis patterns in the iron gates began to swirl until a grotesque face appeared in them. It spoke in a voice as dry and croaky as rusted nails. "Who approaches?"

Severus rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, exposing the Dark Mark imprinted on it. "Severus Snape. I am friend to Lucius Malfoy."

The patterns in the gates slowly moved back into place, and then the gates silently swung open. As Severus neared the Manor he noticed Lucius himself, leaning against the doorframe and looking utterly relaxed. "Severus," he drawled, "We haven't had the pleasure of your company for a while now." He took in Severus' rather unkempt appearance and with a slight smirk said, "Good Lord, man, you look terrible. Why don't you buy some new robes?"

"That is one of the downsides of being unemployed and until recently technically homeless."

Lucius smirked once more then stood up straight and gestured for Severus to follow him inside. They crossed the enormous and grand entrance hall and went directly to a comfortable sitting room, where Narcissa was sat reading in an armchair by a roaring fire.

She stood up and greeted him warmly, her stomach even more prominent than Lily's had been. "You look radiant, Narcissa," Severus inclined his head towards her.

She waved her hand aside dismissively. "You flatter me. I think we both know I look fat, Severus," she said, although her tone was light and she was smiling; she knew how well pregnancy suited her. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you."

"Elf!" Narcissa called, just as Severus seated himself. A small house elf with enormous watery eyes appeared in a filthy pillowcase, the edge of which he was pulling at nervously. One of his ears was rather heavily bandaged. Severus looked at him curiously. "Elf, we have a guest. Bring refreshments." The elf bowed low and backed out of the room. Lucius carelessly kicked him on his way past.

Severus had never had much truck with house elves, but this particular elf, if memory served correctly, was pivotal in the original destruction of the diary. If there was any way he could force the elf to communicate, there was a possibility of locating the diary in this reality.

"It has been a while, Severus," said Lucius as he walked further into the room. He sat down regally upon one of the throne-like armchairs. "Where have you been staying?"

"Here and there," he replied noncommittally.

"You have had a roof over your head, then?" asked Narcissa. "You look as though you've been sleeping rough. You know, Severus, if money is a problem..."

"It isn't a problem," Severus snapped. "Not any more, at least." He arranged his features into a smirk. "I have convinced that fool Dumbledore that my services are worth remuneration. I have found a cheap place to rent for now, and I firmly believe that my dear father will not be long for this world. As his sole heir, the house will naturally pass to me."

"Indeed?" said Lucius, as the house elf returned with tray bearing fine china tea cups, a matching pot and a wide variety of cakes and biscuits. "Well, this at least solves one of your problems." At Lucius' answer, Narcissa shifted slightly in her seat, her face wary.

"What do you mean?" asked Severus.

Narcissa caught her husband's eye. He hastily said, "You have your unemployment problem resolved. If I were you, I would want the pleasure of dispatching your old man myself—"

"That is not what you meant. Be honest with me, Lucius."

Lucius held his wife's gaze for a moment longer before looking to the floor. "The Dark Lord is not pleased with you. I am telling you this as a friend. He wants results. I do not know who it was, but from what has told me he had a very effective spy within Dumbledore's ranks who has recently been discovered. He does not believe you will be anywhere near as effective. Severus, you must bring him some information soon, for he his tiring of you. I have asked him to give you more time, but I do not think my influence will hold sway over him in this matter for much longer."

"Thank you, Lucius. I find myself in a similar position with Dumbledore, however. He doesn't fully trust me and as such I have yet to be privy to any such information that the Dark Lord may find useful. I will, of course, double my efforts."

Severus leant forwards to pick up a cup of tea and looked around the room. The Malfoys' home was of course filled with every kind of expensive antique and ornament. One in particular caught his eye; it was a marble carving of a werewolf stood over a dying victim. A flash of inspiration hit him.

"However," he said, talking even as the idea was forming, "I may be on the verge of a break-through with him. I have been experimenting with a potion based around the ingredient Wolfsbane recently. I have a theory that if brewed correctly I could make a potion that would render werewolves entirely harmless."

Lucius laughed out loud. "Why on earth would you want to render them harmless? Using them as weapons is the only thing they are useful for. Severus, I advise you to stop this course of action, I do not think the Dark Lord will take kindly to it at all."

Severus waved the comment aside. "You don't understand. Do you remember a boy in my year at Hogwarts—Remus Lupin?" Lucius nodded as Severus continued. "It was not common knowledge that he is a werewolf. Dumbledore allowed a werewolf child to attend Hogwarts, fully aware of the dangers."

Lucius and Narcissa both looked disgusted. Lucius added, "I wish I could say I was surprised. Lover of Mudbloods, Muggles and Half-Breeds. I can only hope the fool is gone by the time our own child attends."

"Quite. However, his love of people and creatures that are an affront to the rest of us is an easily exploitable failure. He is still friends with the werewolf. Indeed the two work closely together in their efforts to halt the Dark Lord. If I can perfect this potion and present it to them, surely I will have gained their trust."

Lucius nodded thoughtfully for a moment. "It is certainly worth trying, and I will be able to tell the Dark Lord that you are at least being proactive."

"Thank you, Lucius. I will, however, require some help," he lied. "I believe that this potion may well require two pairs of hands during the development stage. You are too busy helping the Dark Lord and looking after your dear wife, but I wonder if I may make use of your house elf, just for a while?"

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a bemused look. Lucius said, "Severus, I am sure we can find someone far more suited. That elf is a danger to himself and all around him."

"I am sure he would suffice. It will be very boring and menial work, I would not wish to trouble any one of superior intelligence with such a task. Will he take orders?"

"Only those issued from us."

"Can you order him to follow what I tell him to do, to the letter?"

"I could. However I am not sure this is a wise idea, Severus. While I am away Narcissa requires that elf to do her bidding and look after her."

"Then permit me to borrow him solely whilst you are here. I am hoping to have this potion ready soon, and the sooner it is ready then the sooner I might place myself firmly within Dumbledore's ranks."

Lucius paused for a moment, his cold grey eyes hard. "Very well," he said. "Elf!" Instantly the cowering creature appeared in the doorway. "Come forward." The elf ventured forward slowly and hesitantly, as if the last place in the world he would want to be was in that room. "This is a good friend of mine," Lucius said, indicating Severus. "He requires assistance. You will go with him and do as he asks. If I hear anything that would suggest that you are a burden and not a blessing to his work, then you will be punished most severely. Do I make myself understood?"

The tiny elf nodded his head, and bowing low squeaked, "Y-yes, Master."

"Thank you, Lucius," said Severus, standing, "I am most indebted to you. If I may be permitted to use him tonight, I can leave now and prepare for a solid evening's work."

"Of course. Summon him when you are ready. I will send a message to you if he is required back here."

Severus shook Lucius' hand, gently clasped Narcissa's small hands in his own then turned to take his leave. Once alone with the house elf he would be able ask leading questions and hopefully find out if the diary was already in Lucius' possession. Despite his outward composure his heart was racing as he left Malfoy Manor and Apparated back to his new home, wondering how Charity would feel about the 'discretion' of having a house elf in their midst.


	6. Chapter 6

He had enough money left from the purse Dumbledore had given him to buy a small pewter cauldron and the necessary supplies to create the Wolfsbane. It would be the first time he had brewed it without the exact instructions to hand but he was certain he would remember it as he went along. However, he was also certain that Lucius was correct in his initial conjecture, that the elf would prove to be more of a hinderance than a help.

He had told Charity that he was currently working as a freelance potioneer, so if she happened to see the set up of a cauldron in his bedroom when she returned home, it wouldn't be too much of a shock. The house elf that would also appear… well, he would deal with that little surprise if the need arose.

After putting the inevitable moment off for as long as possible, Severus waved his wand through the air in a complicated gesture and called, "Elf!" in a commanding tone.

Almost immediately there was a _crack_ as the tiny elf appeared. Huge, watery, and rather fearful eyes stared up at him from above a disgustingly stained pillowcase that was worn as if it were a toga. "Master sends Dobby to works for you, sir, and so here I am," said the creature as he bent low, his pointed nose scraping the floor.

Severus eyed the creature with a certain amount of distaste. The creeping servitude made his skin crawl. It would be unwise to leap straight into questioning, and so Severus found the simplest and most menial task for the elf to perform. "You may start by stripping the leaves from this Niaouli branch. I will need them sorted in size from smallest to largest. Do not allow any of the leaves to split, and do not allow any of the stem to come away with the leaves."

The elf nodded his understanding of the task and began to work quickly and quietly. Severus watched him for a few moments to ensure that he was working diligently and correctly before setting up a distillation of the vital aconite flowers.

Just as the distillation completed, Severus glanced over to see how the elf was working. He was surprised to see that the elf had already completed his task. A quick glance confirmed that it had been completed to perfection. Severus raised an eyebrow and said, "Now take the stamen from two heads of Passion Flower. Grind them to a smooth paste with a teaspoon of swift moth eggs."

Once again, the elf followed the instructions to the letter, proving himself to be a far better student than most people Severus had taught at Hogwarts. However, bringing up the very necessary subject of the Dark Lord's diary was not something he was especially looking forward to.

As Severus began to add the sorted Niaouli leaves to the cauldron one at a time, adding a dash of the aconite distillation between each one, he set the elf to work on slicing a handful of fresh aconite stems. It was vital that each stem be cut in an exact way, otherwise the potion would be rendered entirely ineffective.

"Like this, sir?" asked the elf, showing Severus his work.

"Precisely. You are a most conscientious worker."

"Thank you, sir. And it is a pleasure, sir, to be here instead of —"

Dobby stopped talking abruptly. His watery eyes grew wide and terrified, and he threw his outstretched hand towards the flame underneath the cauldron. Severus reacted in an instant and grabbed hold of the filthy pillow case, lifting the elf up and holding him at arm's length.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" snapped Severus. He dropped the elf to the floor and returned his attention to the cauldron, where the Niaouli leaves were simmering gently in the distilled aconite. Nothing to do but add the Passion Flower paste, then wait until the leaves began to dissolve into the distillation, which would take at least another twenty four hours. After adding the paste and checking that the cauldron's temperature was correct, Severus turned back to the elf, who was clutching at his knees and rocking back and forth.

"Dobby is sorry, sir, Dobby very nearly said—"

But what the elf very nearly said, Severus did not find out because at that moment the elf ran at full speed straight at the wall. Once again, Severus grabbed at the elf's pillowcase, lifting him up off of his feet before he could do any real damage to himself. However, the elf twisted and turned in the air, striking at himself with his tiny fists.

"Stop this!" hissed Severus, but the elf squirmed harder than ever.

At that precise moment Severus heard the front door opening. Charity was home.

"Quiet," he uttered. The elf had other ideas and was making a series of strangled cries in his attempt to hit himself. "I said quiet!"

"Is everything OK?" called Charity from the hallway.

"Fine," Severus called back through gritted teeth, all the while glaring at the elf.

"You sure? I thought I heard a noise."

"It's fine," repeated Severus, but at that moment the elf twisted from his grasp and before Severus could stop him, he had grabbed a wooden chopping board and hit himself soundly over the head with it.

Charity burst into his room, a look of worry on her face, which was quickly replaced by a look of incredulity.

"Is that a house elf?" asked Charity.

"It is," replied Severus.

"Can I ask what he's doing here?"

"It belongs to the person who commissioned me to make this for them," lied Severus, waving in the direction of the steaming cauldron.

"And why is he beating himself up?"

"I don't know. Because that's what they do, I suppose."

Charity flashed him a tight, ironic smile. "Sure," she said. Turning towards the elf she smiled kindly and said, "What's your name, fella?"

"D-Dobby, miss."

"Well, Dobby, here's the thing. It's really great that you're here. But we really need you to be quiet, ok? You wouldn't want us all to get in trouble, would you? And the best way to do that is to stop trying to hurt yourself." She reached her hand out towards the elf who nervously placed his tiny hand into her palm. She gently pulled the little elf to his feet. "So, are you going to be quiet for me?"

In silence the little elf bobbed his head up and down.

She stood up, and ran her hand twice over the back of her hair, a habit Severus was beginning to learn she did whenever she was nervous. "Not really what I had in mind when I said 'discretion' if I'm honest."

"I apologise," said Severus. "I assure you, we are very nearly finished here."

She flashed one last friendly smile towards the elf, and one look of concern towards Severus before backing out of the room and closing the door.

His eyes lingered on the closed door for a moment, as he tried to push the feeling of guilt mixed with disappointment away.

"Sir's friend is very kind," began Dobby, before he started to shake and whimper.

Severus turned on the spot and glared at the elf. "I am going to ask you something, Dobby, and I would like to remind you that your master ordered you to follow my instructions to the absolute letter. So I expressly forbid you to do any harm to yourself, do I make myself clear?"

Dobby did not speak, but nodded, shaking at the same time.

"Are you happy?"

"Happy, sir?"

"Happy."

"Tis not a house elf's place to be happy, sir."

"That is not what I asked you."

Dobby opened his mouth to speak. A strangled cry issued from his throat instead, and his fists balled up tightly.

"As I suspected," said Severus, his eyes narrowing. If his memory served him correctly, this elf was especially unusual in that it seemed to want freedom. An easily exploitable trait. "Now listen to me, Dobby, because this is important. Somewhere in your master's house there is a very powerful object. Very powerful indeed. It would have been given to your master by the Dark Lord himself. I need to borrow this object without your master knowing. If you could see to it to get this object safely to me, it will be instrumental in the downfall of the Dark Lord. Help me, and I will do my best to help you. I cannot promise them, but there may even be clothes, if you would want them."

Dobby's eyes grew wide and an enormous tear fell from the corner of his eye. "Oh, sir! You and the miss are so kind! Yes! Dobby will do what you wants, sir! Even if Dobby must remember to iron his ears twice as much, Dobby will do it, sir!"

Ignoring the dreadful grovelling, Severus said, "This object. It will be a small book. A leather bound diary. And it will be surrounded by a powerful dark magic. Do you know the object I mean?"

The elf nodded fearfully.

"I need you to bring it to me. Once again, you are expressly forbidden from harming yourself, and you are expressly forbidden from allowing your master to know what you have given to me."

"D-d-does sir wants me to get it now?"

"You know where it is?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Then go and return to me as soon as you have it."

With a _crack,_ the elf disappeared, leaving Severus alone. He had no idea how long it would take for the elf to come back. He glanced towards the closed bedroom door and felt another twinge of guilt towards Charity. If summoning a house elf failed to qualify as discrete, then bringing an item of immense power that belonged to the Dark Lord into her house was nothing short of reckless. He had no wish at all to drag Charity into anything dangerous.

Time slowed to a drag. After checking on the potion once more, he collapsed on his bed and stared silently at the ceiling. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Severus worried that something was wrong. If the elf had been caught, and was being forced into a confession…

As soon as the unwelcome thought came to his mind, there was another loud _crack_ and the elf reappeared. In his tiny hands he clutched a small brown book.

"Dobby is sorry it took so long, sir. Master has many hidey holes that he keeps his treasures in. But Dobby has it here, sir!" He held the book out in front of him.

Severus took it, and looked down at the diary in his hands. It looked so innocuous at first glance, but he could tell that the magic it emanated was dark. Darker than anything he had ever encountered. He placed it on the desk in front of him, ensuring that the elf could not see what he was doing. Pointing his wand at it, he silently performed the _Gemino_ charm.

The diary duplicated itself. Severus surreptitiously pocketed the real one, then picked up the fake copy and checked it over. At first glance it was an exact replica. Smiling grimly, he handed this replica back to Dobby. "Thank you. You may return this back to your master. You have done very well, Dobby."

The praise was too much for the tiny elf to take, and he threw himself at Severus' feet.

"You is too kind, sir. Dobby has never known such kindness." Immediately the elf screeched in fear and then threw his own head hard against Severus' boot.

Severus jerked his leg out of the way of the self-flagellating elf, and picked him up one last time by the back of his pillowcase. "Let me remind you that I forbade you to cause harm to yourself. Now, go back to your masters, hide the book back where it came from, and keep this little exchange between us secret, do I make myself clear?"

"And you will help Dobby be a free elf?"

A muscle clenched in Severus' jaw. He thought he had been quite clear that he couldn't make any solid promises to the elf. "I will try," he said tactfully.

The elf's bottom lip quivered dangerously, his eyes glazing over with tears, before he nodded and disappeared. Severus watched the empty space for a moment or two before pulling the diary from his pocket. He flicked through it. Every single page was entirely blank. Whatever secrets the Dark Lord had placed in this diary, they used a far more indelible medium than mere ink.

It was a fascinating object, and if he didn't have Charity to worry about he would have liked to have kept it to himself for a while to study. He also did not especially wish to return to Hogwarts. However, the sooner this thing was in Dumbledore's possession, the sooner he may be able to disengage himself from any obligation. His mind was made up. He had to go to Hogwarts immediately.

Charity was in the living room, curled up in the armchair, quietly reading. She glanced up as he walked past her. "Has the house elf gone?"

Severus nodded in response.

"Good. I'm sorry if I snapped. Just… let me know if I'm going to come home to any more big surprises, ok?"

Severus nodded in silence once more and headed towards the front door.

"You're going out?"

"I have to," he answered.

"Where?"

"Just…out."

"For how long?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"But… they're showing _The Wickerman_ on TV tonight. We were going to watch it together."

Severus glanced towards the door once more. Charity had spent the last two evenings speaking about this frightening Muggle performance she had wanted to see for a while but was too afraid to watch alone. If he was honest he had no wish to watch anything that blasted out of the Muggle contraption, but Charity had indicated how much she wanted to see it, and he hated the thought of disappointing her yet again. For a moment he was filled with a yearning to throw the diary away, and to never look at it again. But it was impossible. And there was no way for him to explain why he was letting her down.

"I can't," he said. "I am sorry."

Before he could change his mind, he walked straight outside and directly to the nearby ally. Once alone and out of sight, Severus sent a message ahead by conjuring a Patronus, cursing to himself at the difficulty he was still having in producing one. The doe sprang forth from his wand, but once again it was fuzzy and ill defined. He was not even entirely certain that the Patronus would have the strength to make it to Dumbledore. He waited nervously and impatiently, as his head felt overburdened by conflicted thoughts.

Suddenly the dark alleyway was illuminated by the blinding light of a silver phoenix. It hovered in front of Severus for a few moments before speaking in Dumbledore's voice. "Come to the Hogwarts gates immediately."

Dumbledore was already waiting to let him inside. "You have it?" he said.

Severus nodded.

"Excellent news. Yes, excellent. Follow me, my boy."

Severus ground his teeth together to stop himself commenting on the patronising remark, then swept after the Headmaster in silence.

Once secluded back inside the Headmaster's office, Severus reached inside his robe and pulled the diary from his pocket, placing it on the desk in front of Dumbledore.

The old man bent double over it, almost touching it with the tip of his pointed nose. He muttered several almost inaudible song-like words over it, and prodded at it a few times with his wand.

"You said that this diary instructed the youngest of the Weasley children to open the Chamber of Secrets?" said Dumbledore.

"That is correct."

"Do you know how it communicated with her?"

"As far as I am aware, she wrote in it and… it wrote back."

Dumbledore nodded briefly, before picking up a quill and dipping it in an inkwell. He smiled a tight half smile to himself before opening the diary to the very first blank page and writing something inside.

There was a pregnant pause. Severus tried to crane his neck to read what had been written but before he was able, the words vanished without a trace. A strange noise—almost an animalistic howl—seemed to fill the room, before the diary slammed itself shut and flung itself from the desk. It sat on the floor, twitching very slightly.

"What happened?" said Severus. He stood up and walked a couple of steps closer to look at the diary but Dumbledore raised a hand to indicate that he should stand back.

The Headmaster pulled his wand out and pointed it at the twitching diary on the floor. " _Confringo!_ " he shouted.

A nearby cabinet, housing several spindly looking instruments, was destroyed in the ensuing blast. However, the diary remained just as intact as ever. "Well, now," he said gravely. "This is rather disconcerting."

"What is it?" asked Severus.

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the book was immediately wrapped in several tight bandages, then encased in a wooden box, which hovered back to Dumbledore's desk. He took a seat and gestured that Severus should do the same.

"I wonder if you have ever heard of a magical item known as a Horcrux?"

"Horcrux?" repeated Severus, wracking his memory. "I believe I may have read the word once, a long time ago. But as to a definition, I do not know. Neither do I believe that I ever encountered the term again."

"No. I cannot say I am surprised. Before I became Headmaster there was, thankfully, very little literature on them. After I became Headmaster I ensured that there was none."

Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "At its most basic, a Horcrux is a magical item that a Dark witch or wizard may use to house part of his or her soul. It is a most unpleasant item, and one that can only be created by someone willing to rip their precious soul apart. Once the Horcrux has been created, the witch or wizard who made it can no longer die a mortal death, for even if their body dies, a part of their soul will remain earthbound."

Severus eyed the diary with distaste. "You think this is a Horcrux?"

"I believe so."

"And this is how the Dark Lord was able to return, when the rebounded curse should have killed him?"

Dumbledore nodded. "The problem I believe we face, however, stems from some of the other information you gave me during our last conversation. The fact that during your life I believed part of Voldemort's soul was able to detach without his knowledge leads me to believe that his soul was even more mutilated than most. It is entirely unheard of — but theoretically possible—that Voldemort made more than one Horcrux. They must be destroyed. Each and every one. While a single Horcrux exists, Voldemort is, technically, immortal."

Severus stared at him. So this, then, was what the Headmaster was doing during those lessons with Potter. Teaching him what these Horcruxes were. Internally he cursed the old man for not trusting him with the information at the time. If only he knew what they were, he could be of further assistance. Severus felt a surge of anger. He had been trusted enough to become a murderer, but not to help put a stop to one… Random memories came back to him: returning to the Dark Lord and lying to him, even after being subjected to the most prolonged and brutal torture he had ever faced. How he had almost been prepared to break cover when he thought Potter was going to drown, until Weasley finally showed up. Putting a stop to the terrible curse that afflicted Dumbledore when he tried on that ridiculous ring…

"The ring…" he said, his breath catching in his throat. "The ring you tried on, the cursed ring… could that be another?"

"It certainly is possible," replied Dumbledore. "If I could have your permission, I have a very handy device for perusing old memories. I should very much like to witness your memory."

Severus nodded, but he was barely paying attention to the old man as more understanding was coming at him, faster than ever. When Dumbledore had been cursed by that ring, he had broken it open with Gryffindor's sword. So this, then, was why it was so important to get the sword to Potter? Because it was a way to destroy the Horcruxes? And he was only to tell Harry that he had to die when the Dark Lord began to fear for Nagini… so the snake was one? What, then, had caused the Dark Lord to suddenly fear for the life of his snake?

"I know where two of them are," he said, his voice oddly strained and his mouth dry.

"You do?"

"Gringotts," he answered. "There was a break-in at Gringotts. Potter and his friends, they broke into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. When the Dark Lord found out he was… angrier than he had ever been. He killed indiscriminately. He then came here, and told me to keep watch for Potter, who would be attempting to break into Ravenclaw Tower. I assume this means that Potter found one of his Horcruxes in the vault. And the Dark Lord must have known what Potter was searching for, and that he would come here."

"He _broke into Gringotts?_ " repeated Dumbledore, mouth agape.

Severus waved the comment aside as if it were a biting mosquito. "And he came back here, to Hogwarts, to Ravenclaw Tower, just as the Dark Lord predicted. One of the Horcruxes will be there."

"Do you have any idea what they are?"

"Aside from the ring, no."

"Please, Severus. I need to see that memory."

Dumbledore opened a cabinet, and immediately the room was filled with dancing lights. He withdrew a shallow basin and placed it on his desk.

"This, Severus, is what is known as a _pensieve—_ "

"I know what the damn thing is, Albus," answered Severus, touching his wand to his temple. For a split second he wondered if he would even be able to extract the memory, having given it to Harry in his previous life, but was greatly relieved to see the thin, silvery strand of thought hanging from the end. He placed this into the pensieve and gestured towards the bowl. "After you."

He watched as Dumbledore vanished inside the bowl's memory and followed immediately after. He had, of course, expected Dumbledore to be interested in the cursed ring, but what unnerved him slightly was the look on the older man's face at the sight of it. Almost as if Dumbledore had coveted it for his entire life.

As Albus finally stood back to watch the conversation, Severus came in closer to get a good look at the thing too. It was hardly noteworthy. A black stone set into a gold ring with a strange symbol engraved on it. Severus glanced back at Dumbledore, whose brows were knitted together in consternation. Despite being obviously engaged in what was being said, Dumbledore's eyes kept flickering back to the ring that sat broken on the desk.

As soon as the memory ended, and the two of them rose back up out of the pensieve, Severus spoke before Dumbledore could. "What does that ring mean to you?"

Severus was somewhat pleased to see that Dumbledore appeared shaken by the abruptness of the question. "I don't know what you mean, Severus."

"Don't lie to me. You promised me that you would keep nothing from me. What does the ring mean to you?"

Dumbledore collapsed back into his chair. "I assure you, it is nothing important. A foolish, personal quest, that is all. It is not pertinent to our current mission."

"If you find it irresistible, put it on and kill yourself again, then yes, I think it is rather pertinent."

"It shall not happen," he said, then at Severus' questioning look, he added, "I assure you. I am however, concerned as to how we will destroy the one we currently possess. However did the sword of Gryffindor come into my possession?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter," he snapped. "The boy somehow pulled it from the Sorting Hat when he fought the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Ahhh," said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. "Yes, that does explain a lot. It does not, however, do much to help us now."

"So, without the sword, how do we destroy this?" asked Severus.

"It certainly won't be easy," answered Dumbledore. "And even if I were able to procure the sword now, it would not help us. There are a few ways to destroy Horcruxes, but none of them are especially safe. Basilisk venom, manticore stings, chimaera bites…Dragon fire would probably be our safest bet—"

"Our _safest_ bet?" interrupted Severus.

"I did say it wouldn't be easy."

"And this is on top of the others that need to be found?"

Dumbledore nodded serenely.

"And we have no idea what these are, how many exactly there are, and other than the fact that one of them is somewhere in this building, and the other in a virtually impenetrable fortress, where they are?"

Once again Dumbledore nodded.

"Well, then," said Severus, standing up. "Good luck. I wish you every success. But you will be doing it without me. I have played my part. I have stopped the Dark Lord from hunting down Lily. I have saved her life, and that of her wretched husband—"

"Do you really believe she is still safe?" said Dumbledore mildly. "That any of us are? That just because Voldemort hasn't yet heard of a prophecy regarding the person who could defeat him, that he won't ever hear of it? Do you believe that if you walk away, he will just allow it? That he won't track you down, come after you, kill you? That little tattoo on your arm—will you just pretend it doesn't exist, and ignore every report in The Prophet of missing people, of murdered children, of tortured innocents? Knowing full well that you could have done something to save them, to put a stop to him once and for all? By all means, Severus, if you believe your conscience can handle that knowledge, if you truly believe that this second chance you've been given was nothing but an opportunity for selfishness, then walk away. But if you still have any remorse for the deaths you inevitably caused in your last life, this is the perfect opportunity to make amends."

Severus glared at Dumbledore. The weight of his guilt crashed down around his shoulders, and almost against his own will, he sat down.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "I said before that you had helped more than you could realise. Tonight you have helped even more than that. I firmly believe that we have taken the first major steps towards defeating him. We have a great deal of work before us, but I believe the next few steps will have to be taken by me. You have opened a great many new avenues for me to explore, Severus. There are a few people I may be able to question to help us on our next step. And of course, I shall call on you when I need further help. As for destroying the one we currently possess, I stand by the idea that dragon fire will be our safest means. I am going to try and discover precisely how many may have been made. And once we have them gathered together, they can be destroyed in one fell swoop. Then, and only then, will we be able to confront Voldemort as a mortal man, and kill him at last."

"What must I do?" said Severus, giving in to his fate.

"For now, continue to play your part. Has Voldemort summoned you at all in the last week?"

"No. But it is just a matter of time. I shall need something to report to him."

The faintest hint of a smile passed over Dumbledore's lips. "I suggest you tell him the prophecy. Not any important parts of it," he added, as Severus opened his mouth to protest. "Certainly not any of the parts that sent him after the Potters before. But you could tell him that a prophecy has been made regarding the only person who could defeat him. Tell him that this person will have powers that the Dark Lord cannot fathom, and that it will be someone that he marks as his equal. That should have him running in circles for a while. Good luck, Severus."

Severus took his leave. In the other realm, Potter clearly accomplished this impossible mission, or at least got very close to accomplishing it. This knowledge left him feeling more inadequate than ever.

After Apparating back to the alleyway near his home he swore repeatedly under his breath. How in Merlin's name were they ever supposed to break into Gringotts? And steal… what, exactly?

_Potter did it_ , he reminded himself.

Yes, and not only was Potter nearly killed in the process, he wasn't doing it while trying to maintain a double life as a spy.

He paused before his front door, and changed his last thought. He would have to do this while maintaining a _triple_ life as a spy. Because there was no way he would allow Charity to become involved in any of this.

She was still awake as he came in, watching something on the television. All the main lights were turned off, and in the eerie glow from the television he could see that she was hugging a pillow to her chest.

"I am sorry I had to leave earlier," he said into the darkness, and in an instant she span around, pointing her wand at him.

"Jesus, Severus," she said, relaxing somewhat and turning back towards the TV. "You scared the living daylights out of me. I was damn near ready to curse you." She reached forwards and picked up a glass of wine, talking large sip.

"I just wanted to apologise for leaving," he said.

She shrugged. "I'll just have to blame you for any nightmares I have tonight. Leaving a young lady alone like that. Totally irresponsible."

"I would not have gone were it not important."

She turned around again, and something in his demeanour must have convinced her because she relaxed even further. "It's fine. I started watching _Wickerman_ anyway, but it's only about half way through if you wanted to watch the rest with me?"

Severus glanced at the flickering box, torn between his desire to go to bed with his dark thoughts, and the strange desire to please Charity, especially after letting her down twice in one evening. Nodding shortly, he sat down beside her, ignoring the peculiar fluttering in his stomach as she grinned widely. With a wave of her wand she conjured a second glass and filled both. Handing one to him, she said, "Well, at least I no longer have to face these dark pagan witches alone. I have you to protect me." She cast him a sly wink, before sipping at her glass of wine.

Severus stared straight ahead in silence, desperately ignoring the heat that flooded across his cheeks and the back of his neck, and eternally grateful for the darkness hiding it.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the past week he had summoned the house elf several more times. Not that he had required any help at all from the elf, but he had no wish to arouse suspicion from Lucius. The elf itself was still a judicious and hard worker, although Severus found the increased level of groveling from the elf to be rather nauseating. Especially as his references to how wonderful he, Severus, was became a constant reminder that the elf was expecting him to be able to pull off some kind of _coup de grâce_ securing his freedom. As the week neared its end, the Wolfsbane potion was almost completed. This in itself brought Severus further worry.

He had surrounded himself in a very comfortable little bubble, but knew that it would soon burst. He just wasn't sure which side would be the one to break it— The Order or the Death Eaters.

Severus knew that soon he would have to return to the Dark Lord, and that he would have to deliver part of the prophecy on Dumbledore's orders, and force the Dark Lord into taking some kind of action. He was certain that he would very shortly be invited to an order meeting, where Lily would be present, side by side with Potter, and that he would be forced to speak in a room full of people who despised him.

Or maybe he would even be forced to disrupt his comfort himself by delivering the finished potion to Lupin. After all, the next full moon was just over a week and a half away. He only had a few days to deliver it to the werewolf if it was to be effective in time for the next full moon.

This knowledge was constantly pricking at him and invading his conscience, despite him doing his utmost to ignore it.

And he was getting rather adept at ignoring it, too. Despite his initial reservations, he found that watching a film with Charity while sharing a bottle of wine was quite a wonderful distraction from reality. This particular activity came with the added bonus of going some way to alleviating his loneliness without having to think of witty conversation.

One evening Charity had cooked for them both—a kind of cottage pie that she had made using lentils instead of beef—which they ate together in the living room while an old film from the 1940s played before them. The film was called _A Matter of Life & Death_, and Charity insisted that it was an all-time favourite of hers.

The subject matter of a man falling in love before his untimely death and being given a second chance to live resonated a little too closely with Severus, and he only half-watched it, lost in his own thoughts.

As well as the melancholy surrounding the idea of lost love, there was another thought that concerned him even more. Since hearing about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, the very idea of them had kept him awake at night for days, plaguing him with unease and worry. They could only be made by killing. By damaging your own soul. And then, once one had been made…. It enabled you to come back after death.

Was that why he was here? Not because the fates had granted him a second chance at life, but because his own soul was too damaged to pass on? Is that how Dumbledore had returned too? Perhaps they were both inadvertently doomed to be alive forever, never truly finding peace…

"Are you ok?" asked Charity.

"Hmm?" he asked, his head snapping up.

"I said, are you ok? You've barely eaten. I can fix you up something else if you don't like it."

He looked down at his plate. She was right—he had barely eaten. He hadn't even noticed. "No," he answered. "This is fine."

"You don't like it?"

"It's not that. I just… I have very little appetite tonight."

She watched him closely for a while, before standing up and crossing to the TV, turning it off. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not especially."

"So are you just going to take your bad mood out on me?" she asked.

He looked up at her as she stood before him, arms folded, eyes blazing. It was the same spark of defiance that had led her to write the articles in the _Prophet_ that had set the Dark Lord to track her down.

"I have no idea what you mean," he snapped, forcing his attention back to his food.

"Well, Severus, it's been pretty clear since you moved in that you maybe aren't the greatest conversationalist in the world. That's fine. But this last week has been something else entirely. So spit it out. What's wrong?"

For a moment he was overcome by a strange and almost overwhelming urge to tell her absolutely everything. He opened his mouth to speak, and immediately closed it again. "It's work," he half-lied after a brief hesitation. "It is far too stressful, for far too little recompense, and not what I would want to be doing."

Her eyes softened after just a moment. "I hear you," she said. "But just because you're unhappy now, doesn't mean you always will be." Severus scoffed at her, but she ploughed on regardless. "I mean it. Do you think I always wanted to be a waitress? Do you think I'm going to be stuck in this job forever? Of course not! I'm going to do something with this life. Change the bad things in this world!"

"I'm sure you will," Severus said with a half smile.

"So what about you?" she asked. "What do you _want_ to do?"

He frowned. He could not honestly recall anyone ever asking him that question before. In his first life he hadn't ever been given an option about taking up the position as Potions Master. And in this life he just assumed that he would end up returning to Hogwarts as a teacher, but what if the Dark Lord was already gone by then? What if he wasn't forced to take the position to maintain a cover? What would he do if given an actual choice?

"I don't know," he answered, his mind searching around for an answer. What were his strengths? What kind of magic did he _enjoy?_ What was he best at? And without even realising, the answer fell from his lips as if he had always known, and just repressed it. "Maybe…be a healer? Specialising in Dark curses?"

He half expected her to mock his confession, but she merely nodded and said, "Then you go train up and be a healer."

"But—"

"But what? If that's what you want to do, then the only thing stopping you is you."

If only her words were entirely true… He nodded sadly, having no wish at all to discuss it further.

It was almost as if Charity could hear his thoughts. "Do you want to play a game?" she said suddenly and brightly. "Get your mind off it?"

"A _game?_ " he repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah. Wizard or Muggle?"

"What _game?_ "

"I don't know… chess? Rummy? Gobstones?"

"Merlin, no. Not gobstones," he said.

"Do you know how to play Poker?"

A half smile crossed his lips. "I do, but it would be most unfair of me to play against you."

"Oh, really?" she deadpanned, raising a single eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"I have an exceptionally good poker face."

"That sounds like a challenge," she grinned. "Care to make it interesting?"

"What did you have in mind?"

She disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing moments later carrying a six-pack of beers. "Loser of each round has to drink. And do a forfeit."

"I don't know…" he said, not entirely comfortable with the idea of forfeiture.

"Come on, it'll be fun. We've lived together for coming up to three weeks, and we've not actually got drunk yet. We should change that."

"Do people actually get drunk for fun?" he asked, only half joking. His only personal experiences of drunkenness had always been pain-numbing in his own case, or pain-inducing when the drinker had been his father.

Instead of answering she pulled one of the cans from the six-pack then sat down cross legged on the other side of the coffee table to him. She pulled her wand from inside her sleeve and conjured a deck of cards and a whole load of shot glasses. She began filling each of the shot glasses with beer from her can. "This is what we're betting with," she said. "And the loser drinks the bet. Understand?"

Severus reluctantly nodded as Charity pushed half the filled glasses towards him and then dealt the first round. He'd play just this one round, just to satisfy her and then he would make his excuses. He looked at his cards. A three, a six, a pair of sevens, a jack. Not the strongest of starts but he could work with it.

"You ready to bet?" she asked.

He nodded and pushed three glasses towards the centre of the table.

"Confident start," she said coolly, matching his bet and raising it by another.

He was rather taken aback. She was almost impossible to read. "Likewise," he said, matching her. He discarded the three and the six and was rewarded with another seven and a jack. A full house on the first turn…

He watched as Charity also discarded two cards. Again, she gave absolutely nothing away, and Severus was greatly impressed in spite of himself.

He pushed two more glasses into the centre of the table, and she raised it by another two. Not to be undone, he raised the bet by yet another two. She hesitated briefly before raising it by another one. But the hesitation was enough. She had to be bluffing.

After matching the bet, he laid his cards down with a smirk. "Full house," he said.

"Dammit," she replied, laying her cards down. "And there I was getting thirsty, too." Severus looked in disbelief at her hand. Four eights and a ten. "Four of a kind. You lose, Sev."

The use of his shortened name sent a pleasant little thrill through his chest, and he felt a warmth in his cheeks and across the back of his neck. In order to save face and protect himself from being noticed, he picked her cards up to examine them. "Impossible," he said, as she began to laugh.

"Drink up," she chuckled, indicating the glasses in front of them.

There were twenty in total. "You have to be joking."

"A bet's a bet, Sev, drink up."

Just as he finished the last one with a wince, she said, "Oh and you need a forfeit. Nothing bad," she added, as she saw the look on his face. "You can… roll me a cigarette, and share it with me."

"You can have a whole one," he said, practically sighing with relief.

"No, it's ok. I'd prefer to share, I think," she answered.

As he rolled a smoke, she refilled the glasses, and then dealt the next round. "Ready to play again?" she asked.

It had not been his intention to play more than one round. But it had not been his intention to lose either. "Of course," he said, handing the cigarette to her after taking a couple of tokes.

"And are you ready to lose again?" she grinned.

"We'll see."

After every round, Severus tried to back out, but Charity kept refilling the glasses and dealing the cards before he was able to protest. They turned out to be very evenly matched players, and although Severus won the next four rounds—including bluffing her spectacularly with nothing but a pair of sixes, causing her to fold when she had been holding a full house— Charity won the following three. At first they had only been drinking as part of the bet, but soon both of them were sipping from a can as they were playing, and Severus began to feel pleasantly light headed. The forfeit rule was soon forgotten— much to Severus' relief— for the more he drank, the worse he played, until he could barely focus on the cards.

Eventually even the game was forgotten, and they sat together on the sofa with their feet up on the coffee table. They continued to drink and share cigarettes, and despite being fully aware that it was the drink causing it, Severus couldn't help the smile on his face.

"Thank you for tonight," he said.

"What do you mean?"

Severus paused before answering. It was so hard to explain how much a simple of evening of relaxation shared with another person meant to him. "Nothing. I just mean… thank you. That's all."

"You're so weird, Sev," she chuckled.

"I'm not," he protested, his body stiffening with anxiety against the slight.

"I don't mean it in a bad way! Quite the opposite, in fact!"

He relaxed ever-so-slightly, taking the shared cigarette back from Charity and finishing it. The entire evening seemed like someone else's dream. Never before in his life had he felt so… _normal_ … It seemed bizarre to think that this was how most people existed. Carefree. Happy. And not alone.

"Oh!" exclaimed Charity suddenly, sitting up straighter. "You lost the last three rounds, and I never gave you a forfeit!"

"I would not worry about it."

"Nope, you have to do it," she said. "That's how the game works. You need to… " She looked around the room, clearly casting for inspiration. "Tell me a secret. Something no-one else knows."

Severus' mood instantly darkened. There was no one who had more secrets than he did, after all.

"You don't need to know any of my secrets," he said quietly.

"Yup. You can't back out of a forfeit. It's the rules."

There had to be something he could tell her. Something unknown but still innocent. "I have an incredibly sweet tooth," he eventually settled on.

She stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Pathetic!" she said, but there was no bite to her words. "That's not a secret. It's just… normal!"

"It is a secret when you've spent a lifetime cultivating a dour persona," said Severus, to which Charity laughed even harder. As she continued to giggle, she rested her head on his shoulder. His breath caught in his chest at her closeness, until she sat up and passed him the packet of tobacco. He seized on the opportunity to focus on something other than her proximity to him.

"You think people won't take you seriously if they knew?" she said between chuckles.

"Quite. I prefer to give a wide berth to the vast majority of people, and that is far easier if they are under the impression that I eat nothing but raw dragon flesh, instead of knowing that the one thing I couldn't live without is sticky toffee pudding."

"With custard or with ice-cream?"

"That is a completely different secret," he answered, handing her a rolled cigarette. "And I think you may have forgotten, but I won several rounds and never gave you a single forfeit."

"You're right," she said, holding her hands up. "You're absolutely right. Go ahead then."

"Well, I have told you my deepest, darkest secret. I believe it only fair that you reciprocate."

She took a very deep toke on her cigarette, letting it out slowly. "Ok," she said at last. "You're right, it's only fair." She picked up her can of beer and took several large mouthfuls, before placing it down and looking straight into Severus' eyes. "I have a bit of a… a thing… for dark-haired skinny white boys," she said.

Severus froze, well aware of the look of mingled confusion and disbelief on his face. There was absolutely no chance that she could possibly mean what he thought she did. But she was staring at him with such an intensity that—no. It was impossible. Absolutely impossible.

His eyes roved over her heart-shaped face, her short black hair, her slightly parted lips, her impossibly dark eyes… There was a hunger in them that made his pulse quicken. She shifted a little closer to him and said, "No witty comebacks?"

It was impossible for him to speak. It was impossible for him to move at all. His mouth was entirely dry as she leaned in closer towards him.

A sudden pain shot through his left forearm. He clutched at it reflexively, twisting away from her. Why now? Of all times, why now?

"What's wrong?" she asked him concernedly.

The spell cast by the alcohol was broken. He had almost allowed himself to believe that she actually liked him. But the very idea that he could possibly have any identity other than 'spy' or 'traitor' was laughable. As if to reiterate this idea, the Dark Lord summoned him once again, sending another shooting pain through his arm. _Ignore it_ , he thought desperately, trying to cling on to the fantasy for a little longer. _He can wait._

_Why?_ piped up the voice of self-loathing in his head. _So you can stay here to be humiliated? Rejected? At least with the Dark Lord the pain is only physical._

"Severus?" she repeated.

"It's nothing," he said, still clutching at his arm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her watching him intently.

_She's mocking you_ , said the voice. _She doesn't want you. Why would she? Why would anyone want you? You're a fool if you think she does._

The pain shot through his arm again. Clearly Charity noticed this because she reached out to touch him. He flinched away from her, as if the touch of her skin burned him. She withdrew from him and as he caught her gaze he could clearly see the hurt in her eyes.

_See? She's disgusted by you. She'll only hurt you. Better to hurt her first._

He shook the hateful little voice away. The turmoil inside him raged. The longer he kept the Dark Lord waiting, the higher his chances of facing torture, but he didn't want to run out on Charity without an explanation. He longed to tell her everything. He longed to explain to her the precarious situation he found himself in. To have a true ally at long last, someone who would understand and support and not judge… But the part of him that was filled with self-loathing laughed at his pathetic need for a friend. After all, hadn't he already seen just how well 'friends' were wont to treat him?

That part of him that hated himself won, as it always did. Looking away from her hurt and worried gaze, he put his cold mask in place and simply said, "I have to go."

"I'm sorry," she said, and it almost sounded like a plea to him not to leave. "I didn't mean—"

"My reasons are not…." He clutched at his forearm as it once again spasmed with pain.

"What's wrong with you?" she repeated.

_Everything,_ said the voice in his head, although out loud he said, "Nothing." He stood up, swaying very slightly from the alcohol in his system.

"I didn't mean…. Please, Severus…."

They were the last words she had ever said to him in his previous life, and they echoed in his head as if to further mock him. In his mind's eye he saw her terrified face as she begged for life moments before being killed, and he hated himself more than ever for putting her in danger by allowing her close to him.

"I have to leave," he repeated.

Without a second glance towards Charity, he grabbed his travelling cloak from a hook on the wall and left the flat. It was unbelievable that not ten minutes earlier he had felt so happy. After pushing the image of Charity's distraught face from his mind, he silently promised himself that he would start to look for a new place to live in the morning. She would be safer by far without him, and his heart was safer by far if he pushed her away before she got too close.

The cold night air sobered him, and without pausing he hurried to the nearby alleyway to safely Disapparate.

After leaving the compressing darkness, he appeared to be on a dark hillside. The wind whipped at his cloak and he pulled this tighter around himself as he looked around. The Dark Lord was no where to be seen, and this caused Severus to worry somewhat. A Muggle village was visible in the valley below; the pinpricks of golden light from the windows and the winding smoke from the chimneys looked so inviting, and the contrast between the obvious warmth of the houses and the isolation of his present situation made his anxiety increase. He reached inside his robes for his wand, grateful for the feeling of protection it afforded him, however slim.

A seemingly bodiless voice echoed over the hillside, cold and high pitched. "You are late."

"I am sorry, master," he called back into the night air, desperately looking around for any sign of the Dark Lord's whereabouts. "I was—"

"I have no wish to hear excuses. _Crucio!_ "

How long he lay convulsing in pain on the cold, wet ground, he did not know. Only that it was long enough for him to pray for death to put an end to his terrifying misery. And just as the plea for mercy fell from his lips, and he became vaguely aware of the sound of surrounding laughter, the curse was lifted from him.

He opened his eyes a fraction. He was in the centre of a circle of masked Death Eaters, with the Dark Lord stood immediately before him. "I was with him," gasped Severus, as he ensured all of his mental blocks were in place. "With Albus Dumbledore. It was impossible for me to leave immediately. But I have information for you."

"Tell me this information," he demanded, the slit-like nostrils flaring.

"A prophecy has been made. About a person with the power to stop you."

He expected the last remark to earn the Dark Lord's wrath but that didn't make the excruciating pain any less torturous.

"Please!" he begged through the waves of pain. The Dark Lord lifted the curse, leaving Severus twitching on the floor at his feet. "Dumbledore and his followers are looking for this person, to try and protect them. Master, you have to find them first!" he choked out.

The Dark Lord leant in close to Severus' face. "Who are they?" he said, danger and venom lacing every single word.

"I do not know, master. The prophecy gave no name. All it said was that they would have great power—one that you do not possess—and that you would mark them as your equal."

"I HAVE NO EQUAL!"

"I know!"

The ranks of Death Eaters seemed rather agitated, and many of them shifted their weight from foot to foot, as if they were just as nervous as the Dark Lord at witnessing this piece of news.

"My lord," said Severus, "whoever this person is, if Dumbledore finds them first he will take them into hiding. He will offer them a greater protection than any of us could break. You must not allow that to happen."

The Dark Lord paced around the circle a few times before swooping back towards Severus. "Who made this prophecy?"

"I do not know, my lord."

"Then your information is almost useless," he hissed. He looked around at the circle of Death Eaters and called out loud in a clear, cold voice, "I want to know the name of every single Seer in the country. Find them. Bring them before me so I might question them. The one who finds me whichever Seer made this false prophecy will be greatly rewarded." He came back close towards Severus and said in a carrying whisper, "You have earned a reprieve, Severus, but I hope the information you bring me next time is more useful. I do not like being made to regret those I have chosen as my followers. And so I hope, for your sake, that you find this Seer before any of my other—more loyal—Death Eaters do."

"I understand, my lord."

The Dark Lord raised a hand, and one by one, the circle of Death Eaters Disapparated, until it was just him and Severus left on the lonely hillside. The Dark Lord looked on him for a few moments before he too vanished with a _crack_ , leaving Severus alone. The after effects of _Cruciatus_ were still operating on him, causing a terrible and violent tremor in his hands. He lay back on the cold, wet floor and allowed himself to breathe for a moment or two before he shakily got to his feet and Apparated back to London.

The flat was dark and completely silent. Severus wasn't entirely sure whether he felt more disappointment or relief over the fact that he wouldn't have to face Charity just yet.

Not even bothering to turn a light on, he collapsed in the armchair and by the faint glow of the orange street light coming in through the window, rolled a cigarette. The tremors made the ordinarily simple job so much more difficult and it took him several attempts. Once it was finally made he sat and smoked in silence, with the only noise he could hear coming from the traffic passing in the street below.

As he finished the last of his cigarette, letting the cloud of smoke out on a long sigh, he heard a noise from within the flat. With dismay he realised it was the sound of a woman quietly sobbing. He froze as still as a statue, mortified at intruding on Charity's privacy, and hoping that she had not yet realised he was home.

He was not to have such luck. With a gentle creak, Charity's bedroom door opened. She walked out and stopped stock-still as soon as she saw him.

"I'm sorry," she said at the exact moment that Severus said, "I apologise."

"You first," said Charity, taking a few tentative steps closer and wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"I apologise for leaving so abruptly. I assure you that it was not your fault. I have secrets far greater than the one I confessed to you earlier," he said, barely able to look at her.

"I figured you probably did."

"I _had_ to leave. I am sorry."

"Can you tell me why?" she asked.

Severus looked up at her. He shuddered briefly as a wave of pain caused his muscles to spasm once more. The urge to tell her everything was once again overwhelming. But she was so innocent of everything…. No. He could not possibly drag her into his sordid world. "I cannot," he said at long last. "I fully understand if you wish me to leave. I shall find alternative accommodation tomorrow."

"I don't want that," she said. "But… I'm afraid, Severus. I told you that I feel safer in the Muggle world than the Wizarding one at the moment. People are disappearing. People are falling in with You Know Who….And when you act all weird and mysterious out of the blue… it frightens me that you might be involved in something."

Still trembling from the _Cruciatus_ , his head fell into his hands. "You would be right," he said at long last. "But not in the way you probably assume. I promise you, I do not work for the Dark Lord."

She came further into the living room and sat down opposite him. "Are you safe?" she asked. "Am I?"

There was no way to answer the question honestly and give her the answer she obviously wanted to hear, and she clearly interpreted his silence as such.

"I see," she said.

"I assume you have changed your mind, and that I should move out at the earliest opportunity," he said, accepting the inevitable.

"I never said that," she said. "And I don't suppose that any of us are really safe at the moment. I just hope that one day you trust me enough to be entirely honest with me." She reached towards him and her hand rested lightly on top of his knee. "And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier." Severus tensed at her touch and she immediately withdrew. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You have no reason to apologise to me."

"You know," she said after a moment's pause. "I really did have a fun evening."

"As did I," he said, and he meant it. "And I hope that one day I no longer have to be secretive."

She watched him closely for a long time before she visibly relaxed. "That's good enough for now," she said. "But we need to talk more, when I'm not half-drunk and half-asleep, ok?"

She stood up and walked back to her bedroom, glancing at him one last time before closing the door on him. He stared at the shut door for a long time before he closed his eyes. Too exhausted to move, he eventually fell asleep in the armchair, and spent a restless night reliving Charity's death over and over in his nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

Severus awoke suddenly, his limbs stiff and aching both from having spent the night in the armchair and from the extensive _Cruciatus_ that he had been subjected to the night before. The cold grey light of dawn came in through the window, and yet there was already the sound of traffic outside in the Muggle world. Severus moved slowly, his neck and shoulders creaking and cracking as he forced himself into a more upright position. His eyes were immediately drawn towards Charity's room, and once again he was almost consumed by the urge to confess everything to her. Now that she was aware that he was involved in… _something_ … perhaps it would be easier to tell her the truth.

But the idea of her knowing that he had gone to the Dark Lord of his own accord, that he had once pledged his eternal allegiance to him… She was so ardently pro-Muggle that surely any slight sign of his sordid past would disgust her.

He pushed Charity from his mind. There was no point dwelling on the inevitable moment that he could place her alongside Lily as a friendship gained and lost. He tried to imagine how it would feel, that moment when it would finally happen, but it left him feeling nothing. No sadness, no fear, no guilt. Just a vast emptiness. He had not felt so utterly devoid of any kind of emotion in weeks. In many ways it worse than the usual self-loathing he was filled with, for if he was capable of feeling _something_ , no matter how negative, at least he knew he was still human. But this emptiness… it was so much harder to fight against.

With a great deal of effort, he raised his eyes towards a clock on the wall. It was a little before seven o'clock. Was it too early to disturb Dumbledore? He very much doubted it. He satisfied himself for a while with thoughts that Dumbledore probably wasn't human enough to ever sleep.

Eventually he decided that he could not procrastinate any further. After glancing one more time in Charity's direction, he allowed his memories of his friendship with Lily to fill his mind, and he cast his Patronus.

It seemed even weaker and more ill-defined than ever. Severus stared at it, trying to feel something— _anything_ —for the one companion that had kept him sane over the past eighteen years. But there was just a hollow emptiness in his chest. His frail and feeble Patronus gambolled once around the room before flitting away.

It was not long before Dumbledore responded. The silver phoenix illuminated the room with its blazing light. "Come to Godric's Hollow immediately."

With a sigh, he forced his tired body out of the armchair, and Apparated to just outside the village. The morning sun was cold but bright, bathing everything around him in a pale sheen. Eventually he stood before the Potters' house, a bubble of anxiety rising up inside him. But there was no point delaying the inevitable. He walked up to the front door, and knocked sharply three times.

Moments later, Lily opened the door. She had been smiling but her smile froze on her face as soon as her eyes fell on him. "Severus," she said, by way of a greeting.

Just that morning he had been so utterly devoid of emotion and now, at the sight of her, he longed for that emptiness to return. The sorrow, the guilt, and the longing he felt on seeing her caused him physical pain. "Lily," he replied at last.

"You're the first person to arrive," she said.

"Would you prefer me to wait outside?" he asked, taking a half-step backwards.

"Don't be ridiculous. Come inside." She stepped aside to allow him to cross the threshold and closed the door behind him. "This way," she said.

She led him down a light and spacious hallway into their main sitting room. Severus looked around in dismay. The one room was probably bigger than the whole of the house at Spinner's End put together. Everything was clean and bright, the furniture polished and well looked after. An enormous bookcase took up half of one wall, and the titles all looked pristine and new. A gleaming guitar sat in one corner, beside a polished brass gramophone and a box full of records. There were shelves of expensive-looking ornaments, both Muggle and wizard in nature, but nothing so ostentatious as to appear cheap or tacky. Several framed photographs were hung on the walls; all showing Lily arm in arm with Potter. Severus turned away from these, the sight of them increasing the painful anxiety in his chest.

"Can I get you anything?" Lily asked. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee, please."

"Black and two sugars, right?"

"You remember?"

She nodded briefly before backing out of the living room and leaving him alone. Severus watched the empty space of the door way for a moment before turning his attention back to the room, comparing it to the hell-hole that he used to call home of Spinner's End.

As well as being bigger, and with more expensive and comfortable furnishings, the view outside was far more welcoming. Whereas from the windows of Spinner's End, all that could be seen was a row of identical dilapidated houses, the huge mill tower looming over everything, the view here showed a few pretty cottages, each with their own enormous gardens, and beyond them, the rolling hills of open countryside.

Even if he hadn't foolishly pushed her away, he would never be able to provide such a home for Lily. Given the choice between a life of hard work, barely scraping out of poverty with him, or a life of luxury with Potter, of course she would choose the latter.

A gentle _miaow_ at his feet caught his attention, and he looked down to see a small tabby cat looking up at him. The moment the cat caught his eye, it _miaowed_ louder, and put its paw up, as if to indicate that it wanted attention. Severus looked towards the doorway. Lily was nowhere to be seen, and so he bent down and scratched the creature gently behind its ears.

"Traitor," said a voice, and the cat ran away. Severus snapped his head up to see James Potter leaning against the doorframe. He slowly stood up and put his hand inside the pocket of his overcoat, his fingers brushing against the handle of his wand.

"What did you call me?" said Severus, softly and dangerously.

"To be honest, Snivellus, I was talking to the cat, but… if the cloak fits, you know…"

His fingers tightened around his wand, and he waited with baited breath for Potter to make the first move.

At that moment Lily re-entered the room, a tray bearing three mugs hovering just in front of her. She directed the tray to land delicately on a glass-topped coffee table. "Take a seat, Severus," she said.

"I would prefer to stand," he replied.

"Lady told you to sit down. It'd be rude to not do as she asks," said James, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Severus glared at Potter before looking back at Lily. She looked tired and wary, her hand resting over her stomach. He gave a brief jerk of his head to indicate his ascent, and walked towards an armchair.

"Oh! Just a sec!" exclaimed Potter, before Severus was able to sit. Potter flicked his wand in the direction of the chair, and suddenly it was covered in a plastic sheet. "Go ahead."

"James!" said Lily as if to admonish him, but Severus could hear the faint tone of derisive amusement in her voice.

A knock at the door caught their attention, and Potter left to open it. Severus found that he could not look Lily in the eyes. Her laughing at his pain, his humiliation… it was still as hurtful as it had been all those years ago. And as he had spent so many years believing that they could be reconciled, maybe even more so.

She waved her wand, and the plastic sheeting disappeared. "Severus—" she began, but was interrupted by Dumbledore entering the room.

"Ah, good, I'm glad to see you're already here, Severus. We can begin as soon as everyone else arrives."

Severus could see that Lily was still watching him, but he refused to make eye contact with her. Instead, he picked up the mug of coffee and stood staring out of the window, feeling the burning of her gaze on his back.

One by one, the rest of the Order arrived, until the living room was full. Some people—such as the Prewetts and the Longbottoms—arrived together in a group, talking animatedly until they saw Severus in their midst whereupon they stopped suddenly, eyeing him with distrust.

"My dear friends," said Dumbledore, once everyone had gathered. "You are surely aware that our efforts against Voldemort recently took a blow when it was discovered that one of the Order was working against us." A murmur swept the room, and Severus was aware of Black bending to whisper something in Potter's ear. The two of them then shot a dark look towards him. "However," continued Dumbledore, "as much of an inconvenience as this has been to us, we have dealt him an even greater blow. Severus here has recently defected from his ranks and has joined us. Voldemort is unaware of this, and as such, Severus is able to bring us information directly from him with regards to his movements and plans. If you would, Severus…" Dumbledore indicated the room with a sweep of his hand.

Severus had not been ready for this so soon. Every pair of eyes fell on him. Most showed suspicion. The rest showed downright hatred. "The Dark Lord is looking for Seers," he said, turning his attention away from the ones that displayed such overt dislike. "It has come to his attention recently that a prophecy was made regarding him, and…" Severus eyes flickered briefly over towards Lily, towards the soft swell of her belly. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and looked away. "And a person who has the power to stop him. He wishes to… _question_ …the Seer that made the prophecy."

"' _It has come to his attention_ ,'" repeated Potter, a sneer on his face. "Spit it out and say it, Snivellus. You told him. Am I right?"

"Severus has done exactly as he was instructed to do by me, James," said Dumbledore serenely. "Please, Severus, do continue."

He glared at Potter for a moment, his breathing shallow until he mastered his anger. "He is sending his Death Eaters out into Britain, to hunt down every Seer. Once they have been questioned I would not think that they will be allowed to walk away."

"And this," said Dumbledore, standing up beside Severus, "is where we come in. If we send out a warning to any Seers to come forward, it would firstly leave them exposed to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and as we don't want Voldemort to know that we know what he is up to, it would secondly leave Severus rather vulnerable."

"Yeah, and that'd be a crying shame," said Black under his voice, but loud enough for Severus to hear.

"This is an enormous task to undertake, Albus," said Alice Longbottom, her face white with worry. "No one really knows how many Seers there are."

"What we really need is an Unspeakable on our side," added Frank Longbottom. "They have access to the Hall of Prophecy, and could find the names of anyone who is still alive and has made a prophecy, no matter how minor."

"I didn't think anyone except the subjects of prophecy could retrieve the records," said Lupin.

"They wouldn't need to," explained Moody. "They'd just need to read the names on the outside."

"Who do you think is out best bet?" said Frank. "Croaker, Rookwood, or Bode?"

"Not Rookwood," interrupted Severus. "He works for the Dark Lord."

There was an instant uproar. Moody and Frank Longbottom instantly pulled out their wands and departed. Severus caught phrases such as, "—might still be time," and, "—hopefully hasn't passed anything on just yet," before they were out of the front door and gone.

Severus watched them go, inwardly cursing himself for forgetting such a vital piece of information.

The rest of the room were not forgiving either. In an instant Black was stood before him. He shoved Severus hard to the sternum, winding him. "When were you going to reveal that little titbit? Huh? After all the Seers were caught and killed?"

"Sirius," said Dumbledore, and there was a definite warning tone to his voice.

"No, Albus. I don't know what this little shit said to you to convince you to trust him, but—"

"All you need to know, Sirius, is that I do trust him. I trust every single person in this room."

"What's in it for you, Snivellus?" barked Sirius, his face just inches from Severus's own. "When have you ever done anything for anyone if it didn't benefit you?"

Severus glared back at Sirius, hatred radiating outwards from him. He plunged his hand inside his robes, and Potter shouted, "Look out!" But it wasn't his wand that he pulled out. Instead, he retrieved a bag that clinked from the small glass bottles inside it.

He strode past Sirius and thrust the bag roughly at Lupin. "This potion is a creation of mine that will help you. I have already portioned it out for you. Take one bottle every day in the week preceding the full moon. It is vitally important that you eat nothing containing sugar for at least an hour before hand, and an hour afterwards. The potion will not stop the physical transformation, but it will enable you to keep your own mind. Such as that is worth."

Lupin stared at him blankly. "You created this for me?"

Severus gave a brief jerk of his head.

"Don't take it, Moony," said Sirius. "He's just trying to poison you."

"Of course," said Severus, rolling his eyes. "I only want to poison someone, so I'm doing it in a room full of witnesses. I know subtlety was never your strong suit, Black, but to suggest that my only wish is to poison him is moronic, even by your standards."

"Why would _you_ invent a potion to help _me_?" asked Lupin.

Severus clenched his jaw. He had no real reason to have brewed the potion, other than as a cover for using the house elf. But he found that an answer fell readily from his lips nonetheless. "Because attempted murder using a rabid monster as the weapon is an excellent motivator."

There was another cry of outrage as Black and Potter both drew their wands. The Prewetts leapt to their feet and held the two men back, while Lily shouted, "James!" Severus looked over at her, at the fear and worry on her face, as Alice Longbottom held on to her arm.

"That's enough, Severus," said Dumbledore.

"I see," said Severus, glancing around at the faces bearing animosity towards him. "So once again, pointing out that a serious crime has taken place is considered a far greater misdemeanour than the crime itself."

His eyes flitted downwards towards Black's wand, where little fiery sparks were falling from the end.

"There's only one criminal here, Snivellus," said Black in a low voice. "And believe me, I'm going to take great pleasure in taking him down."

"I said enough," said Dumbledore, stepping in front of Black and Potter's wands. "We know what our task is. Find the Seers, and protect them. We have Severus to thank for that."

"You mean we have him to thank for putting them in danger in the first place," scoffed Potter.

"If Rookwood has indeed tuned to the dark, it would only be a matter of time until Voldemort knew of the prophecy anyway. Then they would be in as much danger, but without the benefit of us knowing too. I will call another meeting once we have made progress with getting an Unspeakable on our side, but in the meantime, if you know of anyone at all with a talent for Divination, find them. Protect them. You have your orders. Now, Severus, if you would please accompany me back to Hogwarts. There is more that I should like to discuss with you."

He held eye contact with Black for a moment longer before sweeping out of the Potter's marital home without a backwards glance.

Once they were secreted away in Dumbledore's office, Severus spoke before Dumbledore was able. "Why do you allow them free license to speak to me that way?"

"Severus, now is not the time—"

"I think it is the time. They tried to kill me. How can you… Am I really so worthless? Was I really so worthless even as a child?"

"I did what was in everyone's best interests."

"Not mine, Albus! Not mine!"

"I was trying to overcome the prejudice that so many people, such as Remus Lupin, face. If it had been discovered that a werewolf that I had allowed to attend the school had been involved in such a near-miss, it would have spelled the end of every stride we have ever made toward equality."

"So my life mattered less to you than his."

"You survived, Severus. That is all that matters."

"Oh, really? I survived. And you never considered that perhaps the _blasé_ attitude towards my life, towards my safety, was one of the reasons I turned towards the Dark Lord in the first place? Oh, it doesn't matter that he's being tormented and abused by those kids. It doesn't matter that he was nearly _killed_ by them. It doesn't matter that they were allowed to get away with it, and that they're going to continue to torment and abuse him _because at least he survived_. "

There was a long silence. "You are right, Severus," said Dumbledore in a soft, quiet voice. "I made it my business to ensure that Remus was safe here. I suppose I made him into a… project… of sorts. I believed that if I could prove to the world that a werewolf child could safely attend Hogwarts then maybe the world could improve for children like him. My experiment was a failure on many counts. I apologise."

There was another long silence during which Dumbledore removed his glasses and wiped the corner of his eyes with a finger. Seeing the display of emotion made Severus extremely uncomfortable. "What did you summon me back here to talk about?" he asked.

"Our other pressing matter," said Dumbledore, placing his glasses back on his nose. Severus noticed that the older man's eyes were still shining. "Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"What have you discovered?"

"I have been trying to find places that are meaningful to Voldemort. Obviously he would not want his Horcruxes to be kept hidden together in one place. You have told me that one is most likely hidden here at Hogwarts. Now, I personally would have my doubts that it would be hidden in Ravenclaw Tower —it held no special significance to him after all—and so it is far more likely that whatever object we are looking for is in someway _related_ to Ravenclaw. Now, I know for a fact that a couple of very precious items related to other Hogwarts founders…. _vanished_ ….around Voldemort when he was a young man. These items being a cup that once belonged to Hufflepuff, and a locket that once belonged to Slytherin. I have no definitive proof that he stole them, but the evidence certainly points that way. And if Voldemort knew that Harry would begin his search in Ravenclaw Tower… Well. It would appear that Voldemort managed to find something of Ravenclaw's as well. But I think if it is going to be hidden somewhere here, it is the Slytherin common room that we should focus on. Perhaps even the Chamber of Secrets itself. Although, knowing how basilisk venom can destroy Horcruxes, perhaps he would not be so willing to hide one in there, after all…"

"So you want me to focus on searching the Slytherin common room, then?" asked Severus, temporarily forgetting that he was no longer head of house, and could not as easily come and go as he pleased.

"No," replied Dumbledore with a smile. "For now at least. Wherever it is, it is secure here. I am not going to just allow Voldemort to waltz through the front gates of Hogwarts, so wherever it is, it will stay put for now. You also told me of your suspicions that one is in one of the deepest, oldest vaults at Gringotts. I can well imagine the magical and prestigious significance he put on such a place. Likewise, leaving one with the Malfoys. It may not have been as well protected as Voldemort would hope, but as the Malfoys are one of the oldest and, dare I say it, _purest_ families around, giving one to them would certainly have felt like an important connection to magical history."

"So, you brought me here to Hogwarts to tell me everything I had already told you," said Severus with undisguised disdain.

"Not entirely," said Dumbledore. "Merely recapping. I find it helps me get my own thoughts in order. As I have shown you, these three places all have some kind of significance to Voldemort. They have been chosen to help increase his… _mystique_ …if you will. His own magical significance. I believe the places he hid his Horcruxes will be as important to him as the items he chose to become Horcruxes in the first place."

"And you believe the other Horcruxes will be the objects you mentioned? Hufflepuff's cup, Slytherin's locket, and something belonging to Ravenclaw?"

"It is entirely possible. I imagine that Voldemort would have liked to collect something belonging to Gryffindor as well, but as you have already shown me, the Sword of Gryffindor came to be in the school's possession rather than his, and as that is the only known object belonging to him… I think we can safely rule that one out."

"So you think we have four more to find?" said Severus. "And we know the rough location of two of them."

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "And so I have been searching for other places that are significant to him. I believe I may have found one. What we will find hidden there could well be anyone's guess."

"We? Are you taking me with you?" asked Severus, to which Dumbledore nodded. "And where, precisely, are we going?"

"Were you aware that Voldemort is descended from the Peverells?" asked Dumbledore.

"I was not."

"Well, naturally his connection to such an important family is something he would wish to honour. And while Voldemort himself may have grown up in a Muggle orphanage, the family home of the last descendant of Cadmus Peverell still stands. Having briefly scouted the area already, there is definitely Dark Magic surrounding it. But I doubt there will be any curses that we cannot break."

Severus nodded. "And when do you plan on going?"

"Now, if you are ready?"

He paused before answering. Images of all the people he had seen that morning flashed before his eyes. Lily, Potter, Black, Dumbledore, Moody, the Prewetts,… all dead because of the Dark Lord. The Longbottoms… worse than dead. He briefly wondered if Lupin survived the second war or not. And he wondered whether any of them would risk their lives to save him if the situation was reversed.

Another face came to his mind. Charity. Another person dead at the Dark Lord's hands. A furious determination rose up inside him. "I am," he said.

After leaving Hogwarts, they Apparated to a narrow, winding country lane.

"Stay alert, Severus," said Dumbledore. "And stay close to me."

Dumbledore pulled his wand from his sleeve, and Severus followed suit. He turned off of the narrow road, and ducked through a narrow opening in a hedge. The path that they found themselves on was overgrown with weeds and brambles which clawed at their robes as they pushed through.

Eventually they found themselves in a small clearing surrounded by tall trees that blotted out most of the sun. In the centre of the clearing was a ramshackle and dilapidated little wooden shack. It seemed ridiculous to Severus that Dumbledore, who had just been trying to impress upon him how the Dark Lord had sought to secure his mystique and magical importance, would choose to hide a part of his soul in such an old and ugly place.

"This is our destination?" sneered Severus.

"I know that it may not look like much, Severus, but as I explained, this is the family home that shows he belongs to one of the oldest known lines of Wizards. Do you feel the magic that surrounds this place?"

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was indeed a strange sensation, akin to a gentle tingling on his skin. And there was something else unusual about the place too. "It seems unnaturally silent," said Severus, opening his eyes at last. "No animals at all. There doesn't appear to be any wind movement either."

"That was my initial reaction also."

The stillness was intriguing. Severus pointed his wand at a large stone on the floor, causing it to hover. He directed it to move towards the shack, but as it approached around ten yards away from the front door, it crumbled into dust.

"Fascinating," he said, taking a few tentative steps closer. Whatever Dark magic surrounded the building, he had never personally encountered anything like it. He repeated his experiment with around twenty pebbles at once. Nineteen of them turned instantly to dust at around the ten yard mark. One of them made it a few feet further before it too vanished into nothingness.

"Conclusions?" asked Dumbledore, as conversationally as if her were teaching a lesson.

"It is clearly surrounded by some kind of labyrinth. My belief is that anything that was already present when the Dark Lord set it up has been allowed to remain standing."

"Or possibly frozen, hence the complete lack of movement."

"Quite. But there must be a safe path through, beginning from here," said Severus, pointing to where the one pebble had made it slightly further before being disintegrated. "Which leaves us with two options. We either have to find the safe path, or we find a way to dismantle the labyrinth entirely."

"Which would you suggest?"

"Personally, I should prefer to find a way to remove it entirely, just in case we need a swift exit. However, I do not know where we would begin with such a task. I have heard of magical labyrinths being created within buildings to confuse and disorientate intruders, but never of anything quite so vicious."

"And those labyrinths tend to have the advantage of being made of actual solid walls, too," said Dumbledore. "Ordinarily, I would be inclined to agree with you. It would be a terrible outlook for us to find a way in, find the Horcrux, and then place a foot wrong in haste as we leave. But it will probably be far easier to make these invisible walls visible than to remove them entirely."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. _Aparecium_ was the obvious choice for a revealing spell, although he would be unable to use the standard version, which would require him to touch the end of his wand to the invisible walls. He pointed his wand upwards and muttered, " _Aparecium conglobo_!"

A silver ball blossomed from the end of his wand. He drew his arm back then threw it forward sharply, causing the ball to hurtle through the air towards the invisible maze.

For a split second it appeared to have worked. As soon as the silver ball struck the walls, they shimmered briefly then appeared, solid and blood-red. Then an unearthly cry rose up in the clearing, the colour seemed to leak from the walls and solidified into a thousand razor sharp darts, which suddenly flew through the air towards them.

Both Severus and Dumbledore reacted in an instant, creating an enormous shield charm in front of them. The darts stopped in the air mere feet from them, then fell to the floor, vanishing moments later.

"Interesting," said Severus, and he could not help but be deeply impressed by the complexity of the spell. "It is clearly a powerful disillusionment charm that has been cast over solid walls, as opposed to my initial theory, which was that the walls themselves were created from an invisible magic. And when the charm is lifted, this defence is activated."

A sly smile spread across Dumbledore's face. "You are absolutely right, Severus. These defences are activated when the charm is lifted. So, we simply need to find a way to make the walls visible _without_ lifting the charm."

Severus rolled his eyes and let out a heavy breath. "Spit it out, old man," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you have an idea, share it instead of spouting your usual semi-mystical nonsense."

"Simple really. I think maybe too simple for a mind such as Voldemort's to conceive. If you were to throw a sheet over someone who was disillusioned, they would instantly become visible. Or at least, their outline would."

"Bravo," said Severus. "Your reputation as one of the greatest wizards of all time is entirely well deserved. Of course, a disillusioned person doesn't turn any object that touches them instantly to dust, but aside from that minor detail, I confess myself surprised that I did not think of it myself."

Dumbledore continued pleasantly, ignoring Severus' sarcastic diatribe. "The trick of course, is going to be freezing whatever touches it at the exact moment it turns to dust, before it dissipates. This will likely be slow and tedious, but I am glad that I have someone as attentive and diligent as yourself with me. I can't begin to imagine how long this would have taken me on my own."

It was, as Dumbledore predicted, slow and tedious. Especially as any objects that had been magically enhanced—such as with an engorgement charm—or magically created from nothing, set off the defences once again. But after several hours a pathway was visible. Every now and then a ray of sunlight would pierce the canopy of leaves above them, illuminating the dust that clung to the enchanted walls so that the maze within sparkled in an almost ethereal sense. It was, Severus acknowledged, a truly spectacular piece of magic that the Dark Lord had created.

By the time they finally entered the old shack, the sun was beginning to set, the overhanging trees casting long, skeletal shadows over everything around them. They illuminated their wands simultaneously and looked around at the decay.

A thick carpet of dust covered the floor and every available surface. With each cautious step Severus took forward, a small cloud of the abandoned filth of many, many years rose up around his feet. A chill ran over his skin, causing every hair to stand up on end, but it did not seem to be related to magic at all. "I cannot detect any other magical defences," said Severus. "Surely he would not have only left the labyrinth to guard something so precious?"

"I am sure you are right, Severus," replied Dumbledore. "And yet, I cannot detect anything either. I find this most disconcerting. Remain on your guard."

The sun was rapidly fading outside the shack, making their wands the only source of light. The stillness and absolute quiet was entirely oppressive, and Severus was far more nervous than he truly cared to admit. He forced himself to remember that whatever else the Dark Lord had left in this shack, either Dumbledore had faced it in his previous life and had survived, or Potter had.

The light from his wand fell across the floor, and Severus saw something that caused his heart to pound rapidly. There was another set of footprints in the thick dust. "Albus," he said, and to him it suddenly sounded as though his soft, quiet voice was echoing like thunder.

Dumbledore appeared by his side, and Severus pointed his wand towards the footprints. " _Homenum Revelio_ ," whispered Dumbledore. Nothing happened.

"No one is here," said Severus, a frown knitting his eyebrows. "But these prints look very recent."

"No one _human_ is here," said Albus. "Once again, stay alert."

No sooner had the words come out of his mouth, than they heard the cry of a woman in distress. It seemed to come from all around them and was almost deafening in its loudness.

Severus raised his wand, but Dumbledore immediately put a hand on his arm, forcing him to lower it. "As long as the cries stay loud, we are safe," said Dumbledore with urgency. "But we must hurry. We must find the Horcrux."

"What is it though?" Severus called back over the top of the wailing cry.

"I think we can safely rule out the object belonging to Ravenclaw. It could be the ring, the cup, or the locket."

"That was not what I was referring to," replied Severus, as the shrieks grew in intensity.

"Just start looking," said Dumbledore. "You are sensitive to magic. You will know when you are close."

He forced his mind into a state of pure calm, a similar state required for Occlumency, and tried to blot out the sound of the crying woman. He just needed to focus on the tingling sensation of being close to dark magic.

There were only three rooms in the tiny shack, and Dumbledore had already gone to search one of them. Severus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to slowly walk forwards. It was almost as if someone were gently nudging him onwards, guiding him in the right direction. The vibrations from the dark magic were getting more and more powerful, until he felt a strange jolt in his chest. He looked down to the floor, and pointed his wand at the floorboards. As the light from his wand passed over them, something underneath glinted very slightly. "Albus!" he called out over the sound of the cries. "I believe I have found it!"

Dumbledore hurried back by his side, and with a wave of his wand, he lifted the floorboards away. Secreted underneath, on a cushion of black velvet that had somehow managed to repel every trace of dust, was the ring. A desperate look of longing covered Dumbledore's face, and he reached out towards it.

"Do not touch it!" hissed Severus. "You saw what happened to you when you touched this thing before!"

"Of course," said Dumbledore wistfully.

"I think it best if I put this in my safekeeping for now," said Severus. He pointed his wand at the ring, and conjured a silk wrapping, which tightly covered both the ring and the cushion. Once entirely covered, he picked it up and placed the package inside his robes. As he did so, the cries of the woman grew distant, then were silenced entirely.

"We have to leave," said Dumbledore in alarm. "Now."

The two men hastily walked back towards the front door, towards the labyrinthine exit, when Severus stopped abruptly. "Do you smell that?" he said, inhaling deeply. "It is…exquisite. Like honeysuckle, vanilla, and sandalwood."

Dumbledore grabbed Severus around the arm in a firm grip. "We have to leave," he repeated.

But then Dumbledore too stopped abruptly. Something ahead of them moved in the shadows. "Severus," he whispered urgently. "Keep moving towards outside. Whatever you do, do not look directly at it. It is far more likely to go for you than for me, so you must not attract its attention."

"What is it?" whispered Severus.

"A pontianak. A terrible creature that preys on humans, but young men in particular."

"A pontianak? I thought they were mere myth."

"The stories you may have heard about a woman who died in childbirth—that is the myth. However, myths always have a grounding in reality. And if this is a pontianak, you are in very real danger right now."

Severus walked forward slowly and carefully, but the scent around them was so desperately intoxicating, that he found himself fighting with his own body to keep moving forwards.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger, but Severus was almost to the relative safety of the labyrinth outside. However, just as he got close, the beam of light from the end of his illuminated wand fell across a person who had been hiding in the shadows.

It was a woman. She was tall and slender, with shining pearlescent skin, and long, flowing black hair. She was devastatingly beautiful. There was a brief pause when Severus was frozen to the spot, and she turned her dark eyes towards him. He was lost in her unearthly beauty, but only for a split second. The moment that Severus made eye contact with her, the scent of honeysuckle vanished, and was replaced by the vile stench of rotting flesh. Her face morphed from being a thing of beauty to being hollow and lizard-like, and full of sharp, pointed fangs, and her hands became twisted and claw like. With a dreadful screech, she launched herself at a phenomenal speed towards Severus, her claw-like hands outstretched towards his stomach. He felt the edge of one of her nails pierce his flesh before he was able to react at all, but Dumbledore had clearly been expecting a severe lapse of Severus' judgement, for with an almighty bang the creature was hurled backwards.

"I will hold her," said Dumbledore, his wand still trained on the creature, who was twisting and writhing in mid air, claws outstretched. "Get outside to safety."

Severus nodded, ignoring the pain in his stomach. The dust still clung to the invisible walls but it was much harder to see in the twilight of the clearing. He touched his hand to the rip in his robes and swore under his breath at the feel of his own blood. It did not feel like a particularly deep wound, but it stung and was certainly inconvenient. But more than anything, his pride hurt that he had allowed the creature to break through his defences.

Once free of the maze, Severus turned back to see Dumbledore hurrying through the almost-invisible pathway. As soon as he was clear, Dumbledore said, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," replied, Severus, thankful for the cover of darkness, for he could feel himself growing even more shameful. "It is just a scratch, nothing more."

"Let me see," insisted Dumbledore, sounding more worried than ever. Dumbledore shone the light from his wand over the wound, and even in the dim half-light, Severus could see that the older man visibly relaxed. "It doesn't look poisoned. You are very lucky, Severus. If she had managed to get her claws in a little deeper, it would have destroyed you from the inside out."

"Then I shall count myself extremely fortunate," sighed Severus, looking back towards the shack and feeling the weight of embarrassment grow ever greater. "Is it dead?"

"It is," Dumbledore confirmed. "It would not have left you alone otherwise."

Severus nodded with a brief jerk of his head. His jaw tensed as he tried not to think about what would have happened had he been alone with that…thing. He was furious at himself for losing his wits, however briefly.

"You aren't weak," said Dumbledore firmly, as if he were able to read Severus' thoughts. "The pontianak always favours young men. Once they have chosen a target, very few people survive."

"You clearly did," said Severus. "You faced that thing alone, and you survived."

Dumbledore shrugged, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "One of the many benefits of being old and gay, I expect. You have the Horcrux?"

Severus nodded.

"May I see it?" asked Dumbledore.

"No," said Severus. "I may have my weaknesses, but so do you, and whatever this thing is, it is one of them. I do not trust you with it."

"Severus, you have my word—"

"I do not trust you with it," Severus repeated.

"But it needs to be protected," said Dumbledore. "It will be safest at Hogwarts."

"And I will deliver it to Hogwarts," said Severus. "As soon as I have found a way to protect it from you too. I have an idea of how to do that. You should have the protected Horcrux in your possession by the morning."

"Severus—"

"That is my final word, Albus. I cannot face this task alone, and it is hugely unfair of you to expect anyone to do so. I need you alive and uncursed."

"Severus, if anything happens to it—"

"You have my assurance that it will not."

Dumbledore was clearly fighting some internal struggle. "By morning?" he said at long last.

Severus nodded his ascent. "By morning."

"Then, I suppose, you had better get working on it," said Dumbledore, and there was no mistaking the tone of his voice. He was quite obviously angered by the implication that Severus had made, that he could not be trusted to be alone with the Horcrux. Without a second glance, Dumbledore began to march along the overgrown path that would lead them back to the main road, Severus following in his wake. As soon as they reached the road, Dumbledore repeated himself once again. "By morning," he said firmly, then Apparated away.

It was with a very grim satisfaction that he had found a way to push some of the old man's buttons at long last, that Severus Disapparated back to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note about the pontianak! It is an actual Malay myth, based around the idea of women who died either while pregnant or during childbirth. Their presence is announced by the sound of a crying child, but as the crying gets quieter, the pontianak gets closer, and once you smell the floral smell, you are in immediate danger. If you look them in the eyes, you're basically dead, and they kill by ripping into the stomach and devouring the organs. So this version of the pontianak is what the Muggle myths are based on ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone, please do leave a review as they are what inspire us writers to keep going. And if you're on tumblr feel free to drop by and say hello


	9. Chapter 9

After Apparating back to London, Severus went straight for Diagon Alley for a few much needed supplies. He wasn't entirely certain of what he needed in order to protect the ring from Dumbledore—or even to protect Dumbledore from the ring—but he had a few theories, and when it came to creating new spells, his theories were often correct.

The night air was slightly warmer that it had been since he had returned to his past life, and as such Severus decided that he would walk part of the way home. He came to the decision to walk, partly to give him time to think about the magical problem he faced, and partly because, if he was entirely honest with himself, he was nervous at the thought of seeing Charity. She had indicated that she wanted to talk. That she wanted Severus to open up to her about his secrets. He was not certain that he was in any way ready for that particular conversation.

Many Muggle shops in the heart of London were still open, and Severus glanced at the displays in the windows as he walked past. It was the sort of past-time Charity would have enjoyed, and on more than one occasion he wished that she was with him. It was precisely the kind of atmosphere that she would have delighted in, especially as her love of Muggle culture seemed to come from a direct understanding and appreciation, rather than from the odd, obsessive, and pitying viewpoint taken by Arthur Weasley.

One of the displays in particular caught his eye; a rich, sumptuous display of handcrafted cakes, patisseries, and chocolates. Severus gazed on the beautiful display with a new found respect. They would be beautiful with magic, but having been created entirely without, they were spectacular. He was especially drawn to a chocolate gateau: it was covered in a thick layer of ganache, with a delicate lace trim made from white chocolate, and decorated with fresh fruit, that had been dusted with a fine layer of powdered sugar, making each berry sparkle as if it were covered in snow. He checked his wallet for Muggle money, then entered the bakery without a second thought.

It was nearly nine o'clock at night by the time he finally made it home. Charity was sitting in the living room, dressed in pale blue pyjamas, curled up in the armchair with a book. She looked up as Severus came in, before immediately returning her gaze to her book. "I had hoped that we were going to talk today," she said.

"I am afraid I have work to be getting on with," he replied, hoping it would be enough to distract her.

"It can wait," she said firmly.

Severus said nothing. He removed his cloak and hung it up on the wall, but not before pulling a small white box from the pocket.

"Severus, please," said Charity looking up at him once again, those dreaded words once again forcing the memory of her death on him. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as she continued to speak to him. "We need to talk. I don't know what's going on with you, but I don't want there to be some dreadful secret that makes my home life difficult and awkward. So come here, and talk to me."

He would rather have faced the Dark Lord a hundred times. His feet carried him inexorably closer, although his heart was screaming at him to run. Without looking at her, he handed her the small box. "I bought you this," he said. "I hope it is satisfactory."

She raised a single eyebrow, and carefully placed her book down before taking the box from him. She pulled on the black ribbon that kept the box tied shut, and the raised eyebrow climbed even higher up her forehead. "A slice of cake?" she said questioningly.

"It was from a Muggle shop. It was exceptionally beautiful, and I thought of… I thought you might appreciate it."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Perhaps we can share it later. Once we've talked." She put the box to one side, folded her arms across her chest and said, "So what's going on, Sev?"

He sat heavily on the sofa and stared ahead, not looking at her, and searched for the most tactful way to proceed. "I am not, as I claimed, a freelance potioneer," he eventually settled on.

"Well, I'd figured out that much for myself," she snorted. "So what are you?"

A dull headache was beginning to manifest behind his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I work for Dumbledore," he said.

"For Dumbledore?" she repeated. "Doing what, precisely?"

His head fell further into his hands, a shudder wracking his body. "Various duties. Things that cannot be entrusted to anyone else."

"What sort of duties? What could possibly require you to be so secretive?"

He glanced over at her, and a thousand images ran through his mind. He saw every person he had managed to save from death, as well as the ones he hadn't. He felt every curse ever used on him, he tasted the bitterness of every lie that had ever fallen from his lips. And through it all he felt the terrible and desperate loneliness that had become such an all-encompassing part of his everyday life. He felt the need—the absolute yearning—to have someone to confide in. And he pictured himself teaching Charity Occlumency, teaching her to block her own mind so that he could talk to her, and keep her safe. He imagined how it would feel to have a friend at long last. A contemporary who was his genuine equal. It was all he had ever wanted.

"I spy for him," he confessed, shuddering again as the admission fell from his lips.

The silence in the room was heavy, and Severus barely dared to breathe as the dull pain behind his eyes grew in intensity.

"And on whom are you spying?" she asked, and Severus could tell by the slight tremor in her voice that she already knew the answer. Indeed, his inability to answer straight away confirmed it for her. "Jesus, Sev! How can he force you to do that? You're not qualified to be spying on You Know Who! You're barely out of school!"

"I am more than capable—"

"I don't care if you think you're capable! You're what? Nineteen?"

Severus had to think for a moment to give the correct answer. "Twenty."

"Oh, great!" said Charity, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because that one year makes a whole load of difference! I don't know how Professor Dumbledore convinced you to become a spy for him, but you have to stop!"

"I cannot—"

"Yes, you can. He should never have asked you in the first place—"

"He didn't ask me," snapped Severus, looking up at her at last. "I went to him. I asked him to… it was my own fault. I had no choice."

"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The tension in the room grew thicker by degrees, and the silence that followed her question was interrupted only by the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. "I joined the Dark Lord of my own free will," he admitted. "I was…foolish, I know—"

"Foolish?" repeated Charity, her voice heavy with disgust, and Severus could feel his heart slowly breaking. Of course it had been a mistake to tell her anything…

"Please, hear me out," he begged. "I was not thinking—"

"You can say that again!"

"I regretted it!" he protested. "Every single day! I did not think he would…I just…" He fisted his hands into his hair, silently begging for help, but completely unable to finish his sentence. The dream image he had conjured of finally having a true ally crumbled to dust, and he pulled even harder at his hair with his eyes closed tightly shut.

There was a dreadful and tense silence. "Why did you join him?" she asked after a moment. There was no anger in her voice, but no sympathy either, just a cold indifference that was almost worse.

He swallowed heavily before answering. "I thought… that people would respect me. That if I gained some power they would finally take notice of me."

"Well, Sev, I take back what I said. It wasn't foolish of you to join. It was downright bloody moronic. But," she said, and her voice seemed a little softer, "it's pretty clear you're trying to atone."

Severus flinched a little as she crossed the room and knelt down before him, her hands alighting gently on his knees.

"Is that where you've been tonight?" she asked. "With… him?"

His eyes locked on to the place where Charity was touching him, and he opened his mouth to speak, but not before Charity interrupted him one more time.

"Shit, Sev! You're bleeding!"

He looked down at his stomach, to the point where the Pontianak's nail had scratched his flesh. His shirt and overcoat were torn, and a thin line of dark red was visible against the stark pallor of his skin.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, shifting away so that none of his bare skin was visible to her. He quickly ran his finger along the cut. It felt slightly sticky and was still stinging mildly. What was it that Dumbledore had said? That if the Pontianak had got her claws in any deeper, it would destroy him from the inside out? At that moment, he did not think he could care less if it did.

"Did…he…do that to you?"

"I was not with the Dark Lord," said Severus, touching his wand to the cut. It healed instantly, and did not seem inclined to reopen. He came to the conclusion that he must have simply knocked it, causing it to bleed once again. With another wave of his wand, the tear in his clothing was mended as well. "I was with Dumbledore."

"And what was he making you do, that left you bleeding?"

"That, I cannot tell you."

She stood up in front of him, and a moment later he felt her weight as she sat beside him on the sofa. He tensed as she placed a hand on his back, and gently rubbed between his shoulders. He could not remember anyone ever touching him so intimately. He tried his utmost to ignore it, certain that at any moment she would come to her senses and realise that he did not deserve such tenderness, but the more she continued, the more he longed that the moment would last forever.

"Walk away," she said softly. "Just walk away. No one can make you do this."

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of her thumb as she drew small circles over his back. It was impossible to understand how she could bear to touch him in such a way. Eventually he could take no more, and knowing that it would hurt less to break the contact himself rather than wait for her to do it, he shrugged her away.

"I _have_ to do this," he said, standing up. "The Dark Lord…he must be stopped. You have no idea what he is capable of."

"Where are you going now?" she asked him.

"I am not leaving, but forgive me. I have work to do."

"I'll help."

"You cannot."

"Excuse me," said Charity. "It may have escaped your notice, but I'm actually a pretty good witch. I'll help you get whatever it is you're doing finished, then we're going to share that slice of cake you bought, and then we'll talk about getting you out of whatever debt you feel you owe to the world."

"It is not that I owe a debt—"

"Then walk away, right now," she said.

"He will not allow it!" said Severus. "I am lucky that he has not killed me already! The Dark Lord does not allow people to simply _walk away_."

Charity stared at him levelly. "Fine," she said eventually. "What you're doing for Dumbledore—what you're about to work on now—I take it that it's to bring about You Know Who's end?"

"That is correct."

"Then I'm not going to take no for an answer. I'll help you in any way I can. The sooner he's gone, the sooner you can be free."

Severus considered her offer. Having someone by his side was precisely what he had fantasized about earlier…But she had no idea of the danger she was putting herself in. No. He could not allow it… "Charity—" he began.

"I told you. I won't take no for an answer. What have you got to do?"

He felt himself cracking under her intense glare. Perhaps she could help with the magical aspect... After all, there was no need for her to know about the Horcrux, only that it had to be concealed…

At last, he waved his wand, and the Horcrux, still wrapped in a silk binding, flew from his cloak pocket to his outstretched hand. "I need to find a way to mask this item, so that Dumbledore cannot gain possession of it."

"So _Dumbledore_ can't get it—?"

"That is correct."

"What is it?" she asked.

"An item of extraordinary dark power that Dumbledore covets. I cannot tell you more than that. It has been cursed by the Dark Lord himself, and could kill anyone who touches it directly, hence why it will remain bound in these wrappings."

"And you think Dumbledore wants it so badly, that he's willing to risk the curse to get it?"

"Correct again," said Severus, the vaguest hint of a smile about his lips. It was remarkable how quickly Charity understood the situation. Not for nothing had she been the Ravenclaw prefect.

"Well, the obvious solution would be to put it in some kind of safe," she said.

"That was precisely my thinking," said Severus, and he conjured a simple, small wooden box, placing the Horcrux inside. "The difficulty comes with creating a lock that Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards ever to have lived, is unable to pick."

"OK," said Charity. "Can we set it up to only open to some kind of password, perhaps?"

"Passwords can be guessed," said Severus.

"And what if we add in an extra layer of security? You want this to open for you, and for you alone, right?"

"Correct."

"So we find a way to make this box open only if the password is spoken by you. One way to do that is by getting it to recognise vocal resonance. Although that could be copied by someone taking Polyjuice. Perhaps we make it so that it will only respond to your wand. We could do both to make sure."

"Do you know the spell to set a password?"

Charity grinned a wicked smile. "Do you remember in your third year, when the portrait to the Slytherin dorm was replaced with a new one?"

Severus thought back and remembered the day clearly. A new portrait had been hung over the old one, using a permanent sticking charm. The entire house had been locked out of their common room. It was absolute chaos, and the culprits were never found. Slytherin had been forced to sleep in the Great Hall that evening, as the teachers attempted to gain entry to the common room. By morning, it was discovered that the whole wall had to be removed and rebuilt, and a new portrait put in place.

Most of the Slytherins had thought it a hilariously funny prank. Severus, however, had spent a restless night: without the safety of the Slytherin common room to retreat to, he had been forced to keep his eyes open for Potter and Black, who used the opportunity to torment him relentlessly.

"Yes, I remember," he said quietly.

"It was me and a couple of friends," she said. "Polonia Quinton broke into our dorm. I always thought having a riddle as the key to get in seemed foolish, anyone with half a brain could work it out, and she proved it. I mean, she was caught before she could do anything, but…" Charity shrugged. "It was our message to Slytherin—don't do it again."

"You could have been expelled for that," said Severus, although he was greatly impressed by the feat.

"But we weren't," winked Charity.

"Touché," he said, an ironic half-smile on his face.

It did not take long to charm the box so that it would only open to a password. With a bitter irony, Severus decided upon 'the chosen one' as the password, telling Charity that it was a private joke between himself and Dumbledore. The difficulty very much came in causing the password to respond to vocal resonance as well. They practised on a different box, but it appeared that the charm worked a little too well: as Severus was unable to say the password in _precisely_ the same manner, they could only assume that the first practise box was locked forever.

It took several more failed attempts and most of the night until they finally managed to create a seal that would only break when Severus spoke at the same time as touching it with his wand. Exhausted, Severus pocketed it.

"I should thank you," he said. "You have been an immense help to me tonight. And… I should thank you for being so very…accommodating. I am certain most people would have insisted I leave immediately."

"I haven't ruled that out yet," she said, but there was a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke.

"Once again, thank you."

"You're just lucky I don't have to be at work today," she said, then yawned widely. "Right. I'm off to bed. I'm going to trust that cake you bought is still around when I wake up. Eat it on your own or disturb me at all at your own peril." But before she left Severus alone, she placed a fleeting kiss on the side of his cheek.

Severus stood perfectly stock still, feeling the spot where her lips had brushed his skin tingling. He chose to ignore the peculiar sensation, as well as the obvious lapse of judgment on Charity's part, and quickly grabbed his cloak, stuffing the box containing the Horcrux inside. Without a single word or a backwards glance, he swept out of the flat and Apparated to Hogwarts.

His Patronus was still weak, but he used it to send a message to Dumbledore, and he smirked at Dumbledore's disapproving glare as he handed over the sealed box. He knew that if Dumbledore was determined enough, he would be able to break through the enchantments, but it also felt good to be able to defy the old man, even just a little.

But as the weeks stretched out into months, Dumbledore's hand remained whole and intact, and so Severus could only assume that the headmaster had managed to resist temptation.

Rookwood had long since been arrested, which had slowed the Dark Lord's plans to find Seers, although the Order had also struggled to get either Bode or Croaker to join them and reveal the names etched onto the many prophecies. They had—through the painstakingly boring, hard work of going through old records of _The Prophet_ — found several known Seers, and had got them into hiding. In order to keep as much favour as possible with the Dark Lord, Severus had been instructed to hand these names over before it became common knowledge that the Order had saved them first.

Each time he gave a name to the Dark Lord, it seemed to earn him a brief reprieve, although the period of grace was always short lived when the Death Eaters sent to collect the Seer came back empty handed. Indeed, Severus wondered on a daily basis how much longer the Dark Lord would be willing to keep him alive, for his information never proved especially useful.

He finally managed to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord in the second week of July when he was sent out with a group of other low-level Death Eaters on a pointless evening of Muggle torture. He was given no choice but to accompany them and he watched in horror as the young men and women writhed in agony before him. When he was given the task to join in, he managed to quickly cast an Imperio on his victim without any of the others realising, and made them scream and beg as if they were in genuine pain. Whilst the others were distracted, he was also able to send a message to Dumbledore, requesting that Aurors be sent immediately to his location. Severus was then able to give the Death Eaters a warning that they were about to be ambushed, and together they scattered before any arrests were made.

There was little doubt in his mind that his quick thinking spared the lives of the Muggles. And his act also finally convinced the Dark Lord to grant Severus a mask at last. At meetings he was no longer treated as a plaything for the other Death Eaters, and was at last able to become silent, watchful, and vigilant for any information.

Bellatrix Lestrange, however, remained unconvinced. She had never fully trusted him in either of his lives. Bellatrix's prejudices—not only against anyone who wasn't pureblood, but anyone who had the misfortune to be born into poverty— were legendary. Severus, as a working class half-blood, had naturally always drawn her dislike.

The distrust was also ever-present from certain members of the Order too. Despite Lupin's obvious gratitude for the Wolfsbane Potion, Black and Potter were still convinced that Severus was trying to poison their werewolf friend. The fact that he was still alive and was clearly happier than he had been in years was waved aside—it was far easier for them to hate Severus unconditionally.

Lily on the other hand… Over the months, she had become less obviously cold towards him, but she still maintained her distance. When she spoke to him she was civil, but never said more than was necessary.

A turn in their relationship came when Severus was recounting to the Order about how he had finally gotten much, much closer to the Dark Lord, through the double bluff of summoning the Aurors, while simultaneously protecting the Death Eaters from being caught.

"So," said Black, leaning back in his chair, "basically what you're telling us, is that you tortured a bunch of Muggles, then helped the other criminals who did it get away."

"That's what it sounded like to me, too," said Potter. "Remind me again how you've not been locked up."

"I was not the one torturing anybody," said Severus. "I was trying to prevent it."

"From the sounds of it, you still used an Unforgiveable on someone. I thought the law stated that the use of an Unforgiveable meant life in Azkaban," said Potter.

"That's what I thought, too," said Black. "Or are you somehow exempt from the law?"

"The same way you are, do you mean?" said Severus.

Lily, clearly sensing that another argument was about to break out, spoke. "James, Sirius, stop. Severus obviously did what had to be done. It sounds as though those Muggles would have been killed if he hadn't been there."

"A time may well come when Severus has to answer for the crime of using an Unforgiveable," said Dumbledore. "But this is war, and exceptions have to be made."

"So we're just going to let him get away with it, _and_ ignore the fact that we could have put a group of dangerous criminals behind bars if he hadn't warned them?" said Potter.

"James," said Lily, and there was a definite edge to her voice, "please stop and think. Severus wasn't warning the Death Eaters—he was saving the lives of the Muggles."

She offered Severus an encouraging half-smile as he continued his report. He described how the Dark Lord was sending more of his low-level Death Eaters out to torture Muggles, which he was certain was a distraction technique while the higher Death Eaters focused on finding Seers. In this particular race, the Order were currently winning, but over the past few months there had been a few unexplained disappearances of witches and wizards. Now that Severus was closer to the Dark Lord, he hoped that he would be granted the names of anyone targeted by the Death Eaters so that he might be able to save them.

As the meeting drew to a close, Severus went to leave with everyone else, but was stopped by the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

"Severus, wait," said Lily.

He paused on the door step and turned around to face her. It was July the nineteenth. Providing Severus's re-emergence in her life did not affect the date of her birth, she'd be giving birth to a son in under two weeks. The effort of standing was clearly taking its toll. Severus couldn't take his eyes away from the bump.

"You should go back indoors," he said. "You should not be exerting yourself."

"I'll be fine," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I just… I realised that I haven't said…thank you."

"For what?"

"Well, for helping Lupin out for one."

Severus nodded with a brief jerk of his head. "Right," he said, turning away from her.

"Severus, I haven't finished yet!" She shifted her weight slightly to lean against the doorframe. "I wanted to thank you for…for coming back."

"Coming back?" he repeated. His insides froze. This was not a conversation he felt particularly capable of having right now, especially knowing that James Potter and Sirius Black were mere feet away indoors.

"Yes. From Voldemort. It still hurts that you joined him—"

"It hurts _you?_ " scoffed Severus. "And what about how you hurt me?"

"Severus, don't—" she said.

"I had no one when you left me!"

"You had your little Death Eater pals," she retorted.

"Oh, great," replied Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So you leave me with no one but them, you join up with the people _you know_ tormented me for no reason, and then you wonder why I joined up with him?"

"Don't blame me for your choices, Severus," a note of anger tingeing the edge of her voice. "It's not my fault that you chose to follow him. It's not my fault that you chose to call me, and everyone like me, 'mudblood.'"

"Don't say that word!" he protested.

"Why not?" she said. "It never bothered you when you bandied it around so freely."

"I've changed, Lily. I don't ever want to hear you use that word."

She paused and watched him closely, sadness in her eyes. "Yes, you have changed," she said quietly. "I can see that."

They stood in silence a while, Severus feeling incredibly awkward. For months he had wanted to talk to Lily, and now that he had the opportunity, he was unsure what to do with it. "I suppose I should also thank you for at least trying to stop your husband's nonsense," he said eventually.

A muscle tensed in Lily's jaw. "He means well, Severus. Even if he is…"

"Arrogant and conceited?" Severus supplied.

"Sometimes," she said, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips. "But he is more dedicated than anyone I know to fighting the Dark Arts."

"Really, Lily? More dedicated than _anyone?_ "

"Yes, Severus," she said firmly. "I know you don't see it. You probably _can't_ see it. But it's there."

"Fine," said Severus. "Well, if that was everything…"

"Please, don't leave yet," said Lily, reaching out towards him. "I… I haven't said—"

At that moment she broke off, wincing slightly as if in sudden pain.

"What is it?" asked Severus, his eyes darting to her belly. She could surely not be going in to labour… not yet…"You're not—"

"No," said Lily after a long pause. "No, it's going. I'll be fine."

"You really should go and sit down," said Severus, almost overcome with relief that he did not have to witness Lily going into an early labour.

"In a minute." She was gazing down at the bump, stroking it very gently.

"Do you think it's boy or a girl?" asked Severus after a long pause, despite already knowing the answer himself.

Lily's mouth uplifted into a half-smile. "James is sure it's a girl, but I'm convinced it's a boy."

Severus nodded. "I think you might be right," he said. Hating himself even as the words fell from his lips, he asked, "Have you thought about names?"

"Harry, if he's a boy," she answered straight away. "Maisie if she's a girl."

"So… Harry it is, then," said Severus, and Lily chuckled.

"We'll see," she said.

Without any kind of warning, Lily stepped towards him and put her arms around his neck, pulling him into a close hug. "I missed you, Sev. I know you won't believe me, but I did."

He froze at first, hardly daring to breathe, the points where she touched him burning, but the longer she held him, the longer he began to relax, until he tentatively brought an arm around her back, and slowly began to melt into her embrace. "And I missed you," he said quietly.

He had no idea how much time passed as they held each other. So many thoughts ran through his mind. He thought about the wasted years spent pining over her. He thought about the years of grief and misery, and how— in the face of her lack of care towards him in the months since his return—those years felt so worthless now. But he also thought about the future. And how, with her forgiveness, he could finally be granted a fresh start.

Eventually she broke the contact, but strangely Severus did not feel hurt in any way. Indeed, the greatest of his emotions was an overwhelming sense of relief, as if an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders.

"If I do not see you before…" Severus indicated her bump in a vague gesture. "Well, good luck."

"Thank you, Severus," she said, and her eyes were shining with tears. "Thank you."

She offered him a warm and wide smile, before stepping back inside her home and closing the door.

The summer sun was hot against the back of his neck, and his dark robes felt heavy and uncomfortable, in stark contrast to the unusual lightness he felt in his heart. He wandered back through the town, encountering very few other villagers, all of whom eyed his heavy clothes suspiciously, but he did not care. A determined thought had formed in his head, and he needed to test his theory as soon possible…

Once he reached the edge of town, he looked around to check that he was alone. There was not another soul in sight. He pulled out his wand and pointed it straight ahead, and called, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A blinding silver light burst forth from the end of his wand. But it was not a doe that emerged. Standing tall and proud, the shining light took the form of an enormous bear that reared up on its hind legs before charging forwards. It moved as quickly and stealthily as the doe ever had and turned it's mighty head to look at him, before it faded away, leaving the summer sunshine looking vaguely dull in comparison.

Severus quickly wiped the tear from the corner of his eye. For as long as he could remember he had worn the burden of guilt regarding what had happened to Lily around his neck like a heavy chain. He was free, from that particular chain at least, at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about Severus' new Patronus! I debated long and hard over what to make it - I found a lovely website with loads of different animals and what they mean as Patronuses, and there were so many that could have suited Severus. A Crow - which means adaptability, intelligence and survival skills. Even a Bat - which means the need for personal transformation, breaking old ties and forming new ones. I chose the Bear which is a symbol of personal strength and healing, and the knowledge that you are on the correct path. I mean, the bat could have been perfect, but it also felt a little too cliched and almost comical!
> 
> Anyway, loads of personal strength and healing in this chapter, but Sev is pretty far from being out of the woods yet...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please do leave a comment. They feed my muse and make new chapters appear faster. Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

Harry James Potter was born, as Severus had known he would be, on 31st July 1980. Severus read the birth announcement in _The Prophet_ a couple of days later. Despite his and Lily's reconciliation, the news still dealt him a dull blow to the stomach as he read the printed words. Perhaps it was, in part, the old guilt once again rearing its ugly head. Perhaps it was because Severus had assumed she would contact him directly now, rather than finding out about it through a public announcement. Either way, Severus stared blankly at the newspaper, a hollow feeling in his chest, until Charity roused him from his empty state several minutes later.

In Severus' original life, the Dark Lord had naturally taken an immediate interest in Harry Potter—along with the Longbottom boy who had been born the day before. But in the weeks proceeding these two births, the Dark Lord was no more interested in them than in any other child.

However, knowing that the Dark Lord had no real reason to hunt down Lily did not stop the dreadful anxiety that came with each Death Eater meeting. Every time he was summoned, Severus imagined that this would be the meeting where the Dark Lord announced that his latest target was the Potters.

But it never came. They were in as much danger as anyone else, but at least the danger was not imminent, it was not heightened, and it was not due to Severus' own actions.

There were even times when he could forget the danger entirely. His life with Charity made him happier by far than anything he had experienced previously. The sheer _normality_ of it, the ease with which he found he could converse with her…this was what most people took for granted, and which he had always longed for. He regarded their friendship as the most important thing in his life.

This began to present its own set of problems. Severus had long since come to accept that when it came to the forces of attraction, he was not like most other people. He had only ever felt a physical attraction to one person in his entire life, and so when Severus started to notice how prettily Charity's eyes would light up when she spoke of her interests, how her fluttering eyelashes were longer than any he'd ever seen, and how his heart rate would elevate slightly whenever she smiled, he did not, at first recognise what was happening.

Since the night they had gotten drunk and played poker together, Charity had made no further indication that she felt anything other than friendship for Severus, and so he buried the burgeoning feelings deep inside himself, where hopefully they could not harm him.

His resolve to ignore the attraction was very much tested one balmy summer evening when Charity had had enough of Severus' rather conservative food preferences, and had informed him that she would, with his assistance, be cooking something she called "curried bodie," a traditional Trinidadian recipe taught to her by her mother.

He eyed the spices she set out with a certain degree of nervous trepidation, much to Charity's amusement.

"You really need to broaden your palate, Sev," she chuckled as she sliced the 'bodie,' which turned out to be a form of green bean, into pieces, tipping it into a pan that was already sizzling with spices.

"My palate is perfectly content as it is, thank you" said Severus, leaning over the pan to watch the bubbling dish. The fact was, being brought up in one of the poorest suburbs of Manchester, his parents had not exactly exposed him to a variety of foods while he was young, and the menus at Hogwarts had never been especially adventurous either. In the few weeks in the year that he had been forced to look after himself, food had always been a perfunctory necessity.

Almost as if she knew his line of thinking, she said, "I used to get so bored of the same old stodgy dishes at school. I longed for something with a bit of flavour. Mum used to send me packages of beef or vegetable patties once a week—"

"Meat ones?"

"Yes, Sev," she smiled patiently. "I used to eat it. Shit, I'd have starved to death at Hogwarts if I didn't. But I'd have also died of boredom if mum hadn't sent me my care packages. Here," she said, dipping a spoon into the fragrant sauce and holding it to his lips. "Try this."

The proximity of her fingers to his mouth was most alluring. For a split second he was overcome with the urge to reach for them, to press his lips gently against them, and he tried to imagine what her reaction to such a course of action would be. In an ideal world, she would allow it. Possibly she would then move her hand from his lips to the back of his head, and cover his mouth with her own…

A strange fluttering took place in his stomach and he feared that she would somehow be able to see the fantasy that he had just allowed himself. He quickly forced the mental image away, cursing himself silently for even allowing such an inappropriate and errant thought. To cover any potential embarrassment, he tested the proffered mouthful far too quickly, and immediately fought to stop himself choking from the burning, spicy heat.

"Too much pepper sauce?" she asked, fighting the grin that spread across her face.

"Merlin, Charity," he said. "How much did you put in?"

"Less than half what I usually would," she laughed. "Come on, it's not that bad!"

"I'm going to hazard a guess and say you have never had the pleasure of visiting the Mancunian suburb of Cokeworth," he said, water already streaming down his eyes.

"You'd be right there," she replied.

"Firstly, you should count yourself incredibly lucky. Secondly, you should understand that when I was growing up, the closest thing we had to spice was extra salt and vinegar on a portion of soggy chips," he said, repressing another coughing fit.

"Here," she said, still chuckling. "Drink this. It'll help." She handed him an opened bottle of beer, and his fingers lightly brushed against hers, causing his pulse to quicken once again. Was it purely his imagination, or did she maintain the contact longer than was necessary?

Of course it was his imagination. There could be no way that a woman such as her would ever waste her time on a man such as him…And yet, the way she did not flinch from his eye contact as she passed him the bottle… And had her pupils dilated somewhat? Her deep brown eyes were almost as dark as his own, so it was difficult to tell at a glance…But she wasn't backing away from him…And there had still been that drunken moment, where she had confessed her attraction to "skinny white boys."

He desperately pushed the thought away. These…feelings… whatever they were… were not welcome. And they would most certainly not be reciprocated. No, it would be far easier and far more sensible to just _stop_ feeling this way. Was that possible?

But she was still so close to him. After she'd handed him the bottle she could have stepped away, but she hadn't… He took a swig to wet his suddenly dry mouth, and noticed her eyes drifting down to his lips. He swallowed heavily, and she took a half a step closer towards him. Perhaps there was more to her feelings than just friendship after all…

A hundred thoughts seemed to be battling in his mind for supremacy, and in the end the need for self-preservation won, and he took a half a step backwards.

"Sev—" she began, but right on cue, and giving Severus the blessed excuse he needed, a glowing silver phoenix appeared in the kitchen. "What the…" she began, staring at the floating apparition.

It hovered before them for a few seconds before it spoke in Dumbledore's voice. "Severus, you are urgently required. I shall be in the Hogs Head from seven o'clock."

It faded from view, leaving the kitchen looking extraordinarily dark in comparison. "My apologies," he said, as he sent a Patronus of his own back in reply.

"It's fine," she said, although she sounded far from it. "To be honest, I'm getting kind of used to it." She turned her back on him and returned to the stove, furiously stirring the pan.

"Perhaps you would save me some? I shall return later and give you the honour of laughing at my inevitable inability to eat it then."

The vaguest hint of a smile appeared on her face. "Just make sure you come back in one piece, then," she said, in a manner that only appeared to be half-joking.

"I will do my best," he said.

Without warning, she abandoned the stove and furiously threw her arms around him, pulling him close. His arms hovered awkwardly at his side for a moment, until he finally wrapped both of them loosely around her, and gently returned the hug. He closed his eyes and allowed her scent—something sweet and floral, reminiscent of jasmine and vanilla—to fill his senses.

She broke away from him and said, "Be safe, Sev. I worry when you do…whatever it is that you do."

He nodded, still intoxicated from her captivating scent, before he grabbed his travelling cloak and left.

The bar of the Hogs Head was almost empty, and Aberforth looked up expectantly when Severus entered. The barman grudgingly acknowledged Severus' presence by spitting into a filthy glass and half-heartedly polishing it with an even filthier rag. "He's waiting for you out back," he grumbled.

With a curt nod, Severus passed through the bar and into one of the private rooms. Dumbledore was sipping delicately at a glass of sherry and smiled when he saw Severus. "Close the door," he said, placing the glass back down. "We don't want to be overheard."

Severus stared at him in incredulity. "So why are we not up at the school?" he said. "Or did you forget that this entire debacle began because you were overheard in this very room?"

"I had not forgotten, Severus, but as you are here with me, I don't think I have to worry about being overheard this time."

Shaking his head at the ridiculously shoddy logic, Severus cast a _Muffliato_ spell at the door.

"No one saw me come down here," said Dumbledore. "No one even saw me leave the school. I thought it prudent that as few people as possible know about our excursions."

"Excursions?" repeated Severus. "So can I assume that you have found another?"

"I believe so, yes. But before I go on, I must say, Severus, that I was very interested to see your new Patronus. Can I assume that you and Lily have come to some kind of understanding?"

"We have."

Dumbledore smiled tightly. "I had a feeling something like this might happen when you finally began to let go of your past. You must be relieved."

"I am really in no mood to discuss it, Albus," said Severus, sitting heavily on a threadbare armchair. "What have you found?"

"Well," began Dumbledore, sipping a couple of times at his glass. "Allow me to take you back over forty years, to when Voldemort, at the time still known as Tom Riddle, was a boy living in a Muggle orphanage. Before he officially discovered that he was a wizard, he had already realised that he could shape the world around him. It was tasked to me to tell him, the eleven year old orphan boy, that he was a wizard, and he confessed to me that he had already been using his powers in rather disturbing ways. The matron also told me some rather revealing tales about his apparent 'oddness,' recounting to me a particular trip to the seaside. Whilst there, young Tom Riddle led a couple of the children away to a cave on the beach. It would appear that it was one of the first times that he discovered that he could manipulate the world around him, make people, in his own words 'hurt' if we wanted to."

"It certainly sounds like a place of significance to him," said Severus.

"As before, I don't know what we will encounter there."

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Severus shuddered. Just like when Dumbledore had first told him about the Horcruxes, and understanding had come quicker than thought, he came to an instantaneous realisation. In his previous life, before he had been forced to kill Dumbledore, the old man had told him that he would be away for the evening, and that Potter was coming with him. He had warned Severus to be especially vigilant, for he had a strong suspicion that Draco's long plans would be coming to fruition. Severus had asked the Headmaster where they were going. Dumbledore had refused to answer. It did not take a great leap of logic to come to the conclusion that he and Potter had visited this cave that night.

"Are you alright, Severus?" asked Dumbledore. "If you do not wish to accompany me, I would understand."

"It's not that," snapped Severus, turning away from the Headmaster. Despite not looking at the old man himself, he could still feel Dumbledore's penetrating glare.

"I am quite sure I can face this task alone—"

"I have strong reason to believe that the last time you visited this beach—this…cave…was the night I… The night you made me kill you."

"Really?" said Dumbledore lightly. "Well, you can rest assured that I shall not be asking the same favour of you again tonight."

"Albus—"

"Severus, your new decisions continue to affect the world around you in a positive light. Who knows how many people have already been saved by your actions? Don't focus on the mistakes of your past. And especially don't focus on _my_ mistakes.

"Albus, you need to know that something in there—in this cave—greatly weakened you."

"Ahh, but we also know that I survived! Let us at least focus on that!"

Severus nodded curtly, recognizing the old man's tone immediately. Dumbledore was not going to be swayed at all, and it was futile in trying to press the point. "When do we leave?" he asked.

"Immediately, if you are ready? We can easily slip out of the back unnoticed, and Disapparate from there."

Severus resignedly followed the old man, and allowed Dumbledore to Apparate them both away.

They emerged from the compressing darkness into a world of light and colour. They were stood atop a cliff overlooking the sea. The sun was just beginning to set over the ocean, illuminating the sky with the most vibrant pinks and oranges. The sun itself reflected in the rippling waves, a hundred thousand bedazzling diamonds sparkling across its undulating surface. It was a breathtaking and spectacular sight.

"This way," said Dumbledore, and with difficulty they picked their way down to a rocky outcropping, where a dark and unwelcoming cave entrance was visible across an expanse of water.

"Can you swim?" asked Dumbledore.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, amazed that the old man was even asking such a question. "Not well," admitted Severus, glancing down at the water. The local Muggle primary school that he had attended had given a few compulsory lessons, but he would have only been nine or ten when he taken them, and he had not tried again since. He would also be willing to bet that it was not one of his strong points. "Thankfully, in case you had forgotten, we have magic at our disposal."

He looked around at the sparkling surface of the sea. Every now and then, the dazzling white shimmer was broken by something black and solid. With a tight smile, he summoned the objects closer, and was pleased to see several large pieces of driftwood in amongst the debris. With a second wave of his wand, he transfigured these into a perfectly reasonable rowing boat. "After you," he said.

Dumbledore nodded and sat in the boat first, and after Severus climbed in, it began to move towards the cave's opening of its own accord. It took all of his self-control to not roll his eyes at the Headmaster. The man may have been a genius, but there were still times when he missed the most obvious and easiest solution to a problem.

Suddenly the boat shuddered and then came to a complete standstill. There was nothing visible stopping their progression: it was almost as if an enormous glass wall had been erected over the entrance to the cave.

"I rather suspected something of this nature might occur," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I am afraid we are going to have to swim the rest of the way."

Dumbledore removed his travelling cloak from about his shoulders, and shrunk it to the size of a piece of doll's clothing, placing it in his pocket, then swung his legs over the side of the boat and gracefully slid into the water. With an exasperated sigh and a very great deal of trepidation, Severus did the same.

The water was ice cold, making his breath catch in his chest. The swim inside the cave was not all that long a distance, but the weight of his clothes, coupled with the low temperature and Severus' own inexperience of swimming made the distance feel at least triple. By the time they reached a jagged rocky beach inside the cave, Severus was exhausted, and he lay back against the cold stone to catch his breath while Dumbledore continued to look around.

"You really should give up those cigarettes, Severus. You would have found this far easier without that added burden."

"And I'm sure you'll find it easier to talk if I don't hex your mouth off, which is precisely what will happen if you offer any more unsolicited advice," said Severus, struggling into an upright position. The setting sun barely reached inside the cave, and after drying his clothes, Severus muttered, _"Lumos,"_ and held his wand high.

They were met with a cold, damp wall of rough, featureless rock. Dumbledore was already walking up down the wall, muttering words under his breath, clearly trying to find a way through. Severus clambered to his feet and joined Dumbledore at the rock face.

He was immediately drawn to a particular part of the rock about ten feet away from where Dumbledore was standing; he could almost feel the vibration of dark magic thrumming from it. He gently ran his fingers over the rock and, taking a deep breath, tried to find the edge of the magic.

It ran in an archway easily large enough for them to pass through, if only he could just find a way to remove the blasted rock. "Here," he said to Dumbledore. "I believe I may have found what you are looking for."

Dumbledore rushed to his side and likewise brushed the surface of the rock with his fingers. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, this is most certainly the way forward. But how to proceed…?"

Dumbledore sent a revealing spell towards the wall, and the glowing outline of an archway appeared for a second, before fading back into featureless rock. "Well, this is disappointing," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "I had thought better of him." He pulled a short silver knife from his robes and cut a thin line across his forearm.

"A blood payment?" asked Severus distastefully.

"I'm afraid so," said Dumbledore, as he smeared some of his blood across the rock. The archway's outline glowed brightly, and this time it stayed, revealing a passageway inside. "I confess that I thought his style would be far more refined than this," he added as he passed his wand over the cut, healing it instantly.

Once through the archway, the magnitude of the chamber inside took Severus' breath away. A vast lake lay before them, so vast that Severus could not see the other side, except for an eerie, phosphorous green glow in the distance.

"I expect that is our destination," said Severus, indicating the glow.

"I am certain that it is," agreed Dumbledore. "We just need to find a way to get there."

"You don't think swimming to be an option again, then?" said Severus, his voice dripping with irony.

"Definitely not," said Dumbledore. "We should definitely not be touching the water."

At this remark Severus realised how unnaturally still the water was, rather like an enormous block of polished black marble. Certainly the idea of swimming in that made him rather unsettled.

While Dumbledore walked around the edge of the lake, Severus walked up the water and looked down into its inky depths. Just inches below the surface of the water lay a white, slimy looking hand. Next to it, her eyes open but unseeing, the face of a young woman with misted white eyes stared upwards, her mouth open in a silent scream.

"Inferi," Severus called out to Dumbledore.

"As I said," replied Dumbledore. "Do not touch the water. Ahhh…." Dumbledore smiled and reached out into mid air, as if he were trying to grasp something. After a few moments his smile widened, and he his hand closed around a suddenly visible chain.

Within the lake's pitch black depths, something moved. A small rowing boat, barely large enough for just one of them to fit inside drifted up to the surface, and began to move with purpose towards them.

"This presents problems," said Dumbledore. "We are not both going to be able to fit in this."

"I take it that you believe enlarging the boat would be out of the question?" asked Severus.

"Indeed I do. I rather think this boat measures magical power, rather than the size of the occupants. I imagine that the two of us together will be far too much for this tiny vessel."

Severus looked once more towards the glowing centre of the lake. "Would this be a good moment to inform you that I know a spell that enables me to fly unsupported?" he said.

Dumbledore gaped at Severus, before a half smile crossed his face. "Well, Severus, you are full of surprises. But allow me to cross in this first. That way I can watch your crossing. Just in case."

Dumbledore climbed into the boat and sat down. Immediately it began to drift unaided towards the centre of the lake. The boat created very few waves; the water returned to unnatural stillness almost as soon as the boat passed over it, and very soon Severus could no longer hear the gentle splashes it made as it passed through the water.

Several lonely and silent minutes passed, until a show of red and golden stars flew up into the air. Severus took this as an indication that it was safe for him to try to cross, and took a deep, calming breath, before he pointed his wand towards the ground and pushed off hard, moving quickly across the cavernous space.

The reaction from the lake's inferi was almost instantaneous, and the dark waters below him began to churn violently. Slimy white hands broke the frothing surface, and several decaying bodies leapt from the surface, reaching their rotting claws towards him. He rose higher into the air, while at the same time Severus noted that Dumbledore sent several streams of fire shooting across the lake's surface, keeping the wretched creatures at bay. As soon as he landed safely on the island by Dumbledore's side, the inferi stilled, returning to their infernal sleep.

"That was really rather impressive, Severus! You must teach me sometime!"

"Are you quite sure? I learned it at the hands of the Dark Lord, after all."

"Well, let it never be said that he was an inferior wizard," smiled Dumbledore. "Which brings us to our next problem."

In the centre of the island was a stone basin on a plinth, and it was this that was the source of the unusual green light. Dumbledore directed Severus closer, and placed his hands on either side of the basin, looking down in the eerie glow. "The Horcrux is in the bottom of this basin. But as you can see…" Dumbledore reached out to try and grab the Horcrux from its resting place, but was entirely prevented from doing so.

Severus moved closer to the basin and bent over the strange barrier for a closer look. He too tried to reach in to pluck the Horcrux but his fingers met what could only be described as solid air. He bent in closer and was surprised to see that just beneath the surface, the green barrier was moving and rolling as if it were not a solid, but a liquid.

"It's not a magical obstruction, but rather a potion of some kind," said Severus. "I take it you have already tried to vanish it."

"I have," replied Dumbledore. "It cannot be done. You said that on my last sojourn here, I came back greatly weakened? Well, I can only conclude that this potion will have to be drunk, and it was this that weakened me."

"There has to be another way," said Severus impatiently.

"I very much doubt it," said Dumbledore.

"And have you actually _tried_ any other methods, or would you prefer to just start blindly drinking an unknown potion, created by a renowned psychopath, who is desperate to keep the item this potion is guarding safe?"

"I confess, Severus, that I have not. I am basing my immediate conclusions on the idea that I thoroughly researched my options the last time I was here. But please… Be my guest."

Severus scowled at the Headmaster's tone. Until he had tried literally every other option available to him, Severus refused to believe that this luminous monstrosity _had_ to be drunk.

His first attempt was to try and part the potion, but none of the spells he tried had even the least impact. Undeterred, he used his wand to bore a hole in the underside of the basin. Not even the force of gravity seemed to be able to drain the bizarre potion away. He tried blasting the entire basin to smithereens, but as the smoke cleared, the basin and its contents remained pristine.

With a dark look at Dumbledore, Severus conjured a silver goblet and dipped it into the mysterious potion. The goblet filled immediately and the level in the basin dropped slightly. Very cautiously, Severus tipped the goblet up. The potion stayed put: not a single drop fell from the goblet to the ground. He placed the filled goblet on the side of the basin and attempted to conjure a second goblet. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still, the spell failed him.

"You try," he said to Dumbledore.

The Headmaster waved his wand through the air. The spell failed for him just as it had for Severus.

"Well, it looks like you were correct," sighed Severus. "One of us will have to drink this. However, I would prefer to take this sample home and try to find an antidote first."

"After everything you've seen in this cave so far, Severus, do you really believe that Voldemort would allow that eventuality?

Severus glared at the Headmaster. He hated being made to feel like a stupid child, and his anger made him feel reckless. He snatched the goblet from the side of the basin and lifted it to his lips.

"Stop," said Dumbledore in a commanding tone, and he took the goblet away from Severus' grasp. "If I drank this before, then we both know I survived. So allow me to do so again."

"And you were weakened," answered Severus. "I'm far younger than you. Perhaps that will aid my recovery."

"And how do you expect me to get us both back across this lake safely, Severus? If you are weakened, I highly doubt you'll be able to pull off that flying spell again."

"I'm sure you will find a way."

"And if I cannot?"

A muscle in Severus' jaw tensed as he fought to find the words to express his concern. "Every single one of my ideas has proven false in this place. And I would have died back in that shack if I had been alone. Albus, please… I know that drinking this won't kill me, but I don't know that something else in here won't. It may cause me pain but… I am used to that."

"Severus," said Dumbledore, his voice soft, "I cannot ask this of you. Not only that, but I may have to force you to keep drinking it, and you cannot ask that of me."

"Likewise," said Severus, and without hesitation, he snatched the goblet away from Dumbledore and drank the entire contents, shuddering slightly as he did so. It tasted vaguely medicinal, but it was not the flavour that had sent the shudder through his body. A strange, icy chill ran over his skin, while at the same time, he thought he could hear a distant scream. His eyes shot around the gloomy cave for the source of the scream.

"Severus?" said Dumbledore, reaching for the goblet. "Perhaps I should—"

"No," said Severus firmly. "It was nothing." He plunged the goblet back into the basin, downing the potion for a second time.

The scream grew slightly louder and was joined by a second voice. He looked at Dumbledore who was watching him with a great amount of concern.

"Can you hear…?" The sentence faded away at the look on Dumbledore's face. The old man clearly couldn't hear anything. If the Dark Lord believed that forcing whoever was here to hear screams would put them off their task, he clearly assumed that most people were weak-minded fools. He shook his head slightly to clear it, and filled and drained the goblet once more.

A piercing stab seemed to penetrate his stomach, and from the darkness he heard a deep, rumbling growl to join with the screams. In his peripheral vision he saw the flash of a beast's eyes. He turned to look at the snarling animal that was mostly hidden in shadow, and could see that its bloody maw was pulled back in a snarl, revealing the pointed, sharp white fangs.

He froze as he stared at the prowling werewolf. It stayed just on the edge of the shadows, not daring to come any closer. Fighting through the pain, Severus pulled his wand out and pointed it into the darkness.

From a distance, he heard a familiar voice say his name and gave a little start of surprise when he realised that Albus Dumbledore was next to him. For a split second, he could not remember where he was, or why he was in pain, but the glowing green bowl before him was a harsh reminder.

"Severus, stop this. Allow me—"

"No," snapped Severus. "One of us needs to stay alert and it needs to be you."

Before Albus could stop him, he took another goblet full of potion. This time he could not help it. The pain was worse than _Cruciatus_ , and he dropped to his knees, unable to contain the cry of pain that was wrenched from him. The werewolf in the shadows growled ever louder, and he scrambled away in fear. A strong pain of hands gripped his upper arms, and a familiar face loomed in front of him. It was Albus Dumbledore, and he appeared to be speaking. Severus fought hard through the waves of burning pain to hear what the old man was saying.

"….should never have allowed this."

Severus thought he could detect a note of pity in the man's voice, but he didn't understand what he could possibly mean by it. It didn't matter anyway. All that mattered was stopping the dreadful pain, and getting away before the werewolf tore him to pieces.

"Help me," he said between gritted teeth.

He was left alone for just a moment, then felt a hand gently alight on the back of his head. A goblet was presented to him, full of an unfamiliar potion. He tried to turn his head away, but the potion was tipped into his mouth.

As soon as he swallowed, his insides burned with an intense, blazing heat. Through the agony, he managed to force his eyes open to look on the face of his tormentor.

It was his father. Or was it? The face before him seemed to be ever-shifting. One moment there was the lank black hair and hooked nose of his father, but then the hair grew shorter and messier, the nose became smaller, and the eyes that looked on him were not filled with drunken anger and disappointment, but rather cruel spite. James Potter morphed into Sirius Black—who laughed and mocked him—before the face became pale and snake-like, and the burning red eyes watched him without pity.

The Dark Lord forced him to drink a goblet full of a foul-tasting potion. He tried to push the dark wizard away, but the constant torment left him weak.

Another figure appeared behind the Dark Lord. It was Lily Potter, and she approached him slowly and fearfully. "Severus?" she said, her terrified voice echoing around the cavern. "Where are we? What's going on?"

The Dark Lord smiled a lipless and cold grin. "This is your fault," he said, as he turned and raised his wand.

"No," groaned Severus. "You can't… You promised…" Lily was backing away from the Dark Lord but she seemed unwilling to move faster. "Run!" he shouted. "You have to…"

A flash of green light illuminated the dark cavern, and Lily's body crumpled and fell. Severus stared at her prone figure in horror. She had come to find him in this place, wherever this was, and now she was dead. Because of him. Huge, hot tears fell from his eyes.

Another goblet full of potion was tipped down his throat. The werewolf made its presence known once again, and Severus could feel its foul, putrid breath on the back of his neck. Soon he would be torn to pieces and left for dead, or worse. He had to leave, he had to get out of this terrible place before the beast caught him.

As he stared at Lily's unmoving body, he realised that no one would care if the wolf did kill him. He would die painfully in this cave with no company other than Lily's body, as a reminder of his terrible failure.

Yet more potion was forced into his mouth, and as the burning agony in his stomach increased, he was unable to help the piteous cry that fell from his lips.

Another movement in the shadows caught his eye, and Charity stepped forward into the sparse green light. "Severus," she said, and her voice shook with terror. "Please... Save me. Please…"

"I can't…" he moaned.

In a furious rage, the Dark Lord turned his wand on her too, and before Severus was able to utter a warning she fell beside Lily.

"Stop! Please, stop!"

"But you are mine," said the Dark Lord. "Your body, your heart, your soul…they belong to me."

"No…."

As the Dark Lord forced yet another goblet full of potion down his throat, Severus noticed the enormous black snake undulating in the darkness. It reared up over Charity's body and dislocated its great jaws.

Horror froze him to the spot. He desperately wanted to turn away from the repulsive spectacle, but it was impossible.

"You will always be mine, Severus. And everything you want belongs to me too."

"No," he whimpered. "I'm done. I want out."

"Do you not understand?" said the Dark Lord. "I decide when it is done. I decide when you leave."

The snake, having finished its grotesque meal, slithered towards him, and Severus could see his pale, terrified face reflected in its unblinking eyes.

"Stop these games, please," he begged clambering to his knees, and grasping the bottom of the Dark Lord's robes. "Kill me. I don't want this. Please…"

The Dark Lord regarded him for a moment, his head cocked slightly to one side as if considering Severus' request. He knelt before Severus and tipped one last goblet-full of potion down his throat. "This will kill you," he said softly. "But you will still always be mine."

The Dark Lord faded from his view, and he was left alone with nothing but Lily's dead body, the snake that continued to circle him, hissing and spitting constantly, the growling werewolf that stayed just on the edge of his vision, and his own quiet cries.

"Severus?" said a caring yet urgent voice. "Severus, can you hear me?"

Dumbledore was in front of him. The snake was gone. Lily's body was gone. The werewolf was gone. Every muscle in his body ached, but most of the burning pain was gone too.

Severus tried to speak, but his throat was dreadfully dry. "Water," he eventually gasped.

He felt a hand slide across the back of his shoulders, helping him sit upright. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a crystal goblet full to the brim of water, and Severus reached for it eagerly. The moment he held the goblet to his lips, the water within vanished. "Please…" he choked out, indicating the empty vessel.

"Severus, hold on," said Dumbledore.

The thirst was going to kill him, he knew it, but Dumbledore did nothing to aid him. He felt a hand push him backwards, and he was unable to resist the pressure, and lay back against the cold, hard rock, waiting to die at long last.

He felt himself being lifted into the air, supported as if on a bed. He did not understand what was happening, but it didn't matter: Dumbledore had never cared about him enough to save him, and here was the proof. He would be left to die of thirst in this hellish cave, surrounded by his worst fears and memories.

"Water," he gasped once more, but Dumbledore was not listening. Indeed the Headmaster sought to taunt him further before his death, for his floating death bed was suddenly surrounded by flames. He could hear the sound of splashing water beneath him and wanted nothing more than to try and roll away from the heat and torment, into the blissfully cool water beneath him, but Dumbledore had already thought of this, and had bound him tightly in place.

He began to sink back down towards the ground, but the flames around him stayed in place. What a hellish way for his life to finally come to an end…

But death was not going to claim him quickly. He had no idea how long he stayed there, unable to move, surrounded by a wall of flame, but eventually the fire dissipated, and a familiar voice said, "Severus, can you hear me?"

A firm hand was placed behind his shoulder and forced him into an upright position, and moments later he felt the relief of a goblet of cold water at his lips. This time, the water did not disappear, and he drank deeply and gratefully, coughing and spluttering as he did so. Slowly, his surroundings came back into view. He and Dumbledore were back outside of the main chamber of the cave, the salt spray of the ocean blowing in their faces.

"I need to get you back to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "You need rest."

"No," replied Severus, suddenly thinking of how Charity would be waiting for him. "I want to go home."

"I would prefer it if you come back to Hogwarts—"

"I'm not going to Hogwarts," said Severus.

"St Mungo's, then. I should be far happier if you were to see a healer. You said that I was weakened when I did what you have just done, but we knew that I was going to end up dead anyway. We don't know that you will just recover from this."

"Take me home," demanded Severus through gritted teeth. He looked at Dumbledore, who was eyeing him with pity. "I mean it. I will be fine. I just need to sleep. In my own bed. Without anyone fussing."

It was clear that Dumbledore had several more things to say on the subject, but he eventually backed down from Severus' obstinate stubbornness. The swim back out of the cave was far more difficult than it had been earlier; Severus' utter exhaustion—both physical and mental—coupled with the now near pitch darkness, did not aid their progress at all, and by the time Severus was able to Apparate back to London with Dumbledore's help, he nearly collapsed under the exertion.

Dumbledore tapped his wand against the flat's front door, and it swung silently open. A light was on in the kitchen, and as Severus stumbled into the living room, Dumbledore still supporting him, he heard Charity call through to him. "Sev? I was just making some tea. Do you want a cup?"

He didn't answer, but winced as Dumbledore helped him into the armchair.

"I personally think tea would be a very sensible idea," said Dumbledore, but Severus ignored him.

At that moment, Charity entered the room. She was carrying a large mug of tea, and as soon as she saw Severus, she dropped the mug, the contents spilling over the carpet. "Sev?" she said, rushing to his side, worry evident in every part of her body. What have you done to him?" she demanded of Dumbledore

"He didn't—" Severus began, but he immediately winced again. Talking seemed to take a great deal of effort.

"Severus seems to think he will be ok," said Dumbledore. "But I am glad that he has someone so attentive to look after him."

"What happened to you?" she said, then immediately turned back to Dumbledore. "Does he need a healer?"

"I don't need a healer," said Severus impatiently.

"I tried to persuade him to see someone," said Dumbledore. "But Severus refused."

"I don't need a healer!" he repeated, pure venom lacing his voice, shooting Dumbledore a dark glare.

"He seems to think that all he really needs is rest and company."

"I need a double Firewhisky and a smoke, and for you both to stop fussing."

"I'll get them for you," said Charity, hurrying out of the room.

Once alone Severus raised his eyes towards Dumbledore. "Well? Did you get it?"

"I retrieved the locket from the basin," replied Dumbledore, although the tone in his voice did not sound positive.

"And?" sighed Severus, well aware that there was more to Dumbledore's answer than met the eye.

"It is not a Horcrux. I could tell that immediately as soon as I picked it up."

Severus shuddered involuntarily. To have gone through the terrible ordeal that he just had, and to be no closer to ending the Dark Lord at the end of it?

"So what is it?" he asked. "Anything useful at all?"

Dumbledore pulled a silver locket from his pocket and handed it over to Severus. Much like Dumbledore, Severus could tell immediately that there was no aura of dark magic surrounding the object. It was nothing more than an ordinary locket. He opened it out of curiosity, and a folded piece of paper fell out.

With hands still shaking from the dreadful effects of the potion, Severus opened the note.

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

Severus stared at the initials and an awful sinking feeling washed over him. He knew immediately who had written the note, and had always wondered what had happened to Regulus Black, who had disappeared without a trace very shortly after joining the Death Eaters. It looked like that particular mystery had been solved.

As Charity re-entered the room, a glass of whisky in one hand, and a clumsily rolled cigarette in the other, Severus handed the note over to Dumbledore and gratefully accepted his drink and cigarette. "I hate to say this," said Severus, lighting the smoke and inhaling deeply. "But I think we may need to have a word with Sirius Black."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a very tough decision to make Severus drink that potion. I wanted to make Dumbledore do it, but from a writer's perspective it would have been a bit dull to just have to recreate the scene entirely.
> 
> Also - a couple of things. One about depression, one about sexuality.
> 
> I have never, personally, suffered from depression, but I have several people in my life that do. I am well aware from what they have told me that it's not just endless days of sadness (although that can happen) and that you can still have great days - but the fact is, one thing going well in your life isn't a cure for depression, and so just because he and Lily have patched things up, and just because he and Charity are getting closer, Severus isn't going to suddenly be all light and sunshine. He'll still have these moments of horrible emptiness :(
> 
> And I read canon Severus as definitely being on the ace spectrum. Here I've written him as demisexual, but again, I'm not demi myself. I've done a lot of reading and research, but I don't want to write this experience wrong. If anyone reading this identifies as asexual or demi, or gray-ace, and would like to offer some advice if they think I'm writing his experience wrong, I'd welcome it.
> 
> Thank you for reading, now please do leave a review! Reviews make new chapters appear faster!


	11. Chapter 11

"I think perhaps you may be right," said Dumbledore, looking down at the note in his hands.

Severus glanced at Charity who was kneeling before him, a look of dire concern and worry creasing her brow, and he sipped at his whisky. The dreadful images that the potion had forced him to witness kept flashing before his eyes. Mentally he cursed himself for his weakness: he should not have come back here. He should have returned to Hogwarts as per Dumbledore's original intentions where they could talk freely. But after the dreadful ordeal he had wanted to be somewhere he felt safe, both emotionally and physically.

He was well aware that Charity could be trusted to be a member of the Order, more so than many of its current members, but exposing her to even more danger? The idea left a distinctly unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Dumbledore, astute as ever, peered over the top of his spectacles at Charity. "Can I presume from her lack of shock at your current predicament, Severus, that you have shared certain aspects of your day-to-day life with Miss Burbage?"

Severus responded with nothing more than a glare.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "May I ask how much you have shared?"

"He told me that you have him running around after You Know Who," said Charity, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. "I don't know what you're playing at, Professor, but that's the job of the Aurors. It's not down to people barely out of school."

"Your concern is admirable, Miss Burbage. However, I firmly believe that Severus is more than capable—"

"I don't care if you think he's 'more than capable!' It's not his job!"

An intense shudder involuntarily shook Severus' body, causing him to spill some of the whisky, and he swore under his breath, quietly thanking Merlin that neither of them had seen his moment of weakness. While Charity continued to protest what she saw as Dumbledore's ill-treatment, Severus sat and tried to form his thoughts into a logical and coherent order.

Regulus Black had vanished almost a year earlier, shortly after joining the Death Eaters. He had managed to replace the genuine Horcrux with a fake one. Assuming that the potion in the basin was somehow self-replicating, and would refill itself if left alone, then Regulus would have had to endure a very similar ordeal to the one that Severus just had. He shuddered once more as the memories came back to him. But there was no way at all that Regulus could have managed it alone. Someone had to have been with him.

And what? Did that mean that Regulus was still alive and hiding somewhere? That he had forced someone to drink that potion until he could steal the Horcrux and replace it with a fake locket? Had he then left them to die? Or had someone else done exactly that to him, and then left him on that terrible, lonely little island to go mad with thirst until he was killed by the inferi?

What was it Dumbledore had said about that rowing boat? That it measured magical power, rather than size… Dumbledore had taken Potter with him before. Potter… an underage and unqualified wizard… Had that boat been able to carry them both, then? So Regulus's companion would have been a child? Surely not… Regulus was a brainwashed fool who had entirely bought into the idea of blood purity, but a callous child-killer… surely not. No, there was something else here…

He shook his head briefly in order to clear it. In the other world, Dumbledore and Potter retrieved this ordinary locket. Had Dumbledore had the chance to read the note before… before his death? Unlikely. But Potter must have read it.

Potter, who had spent the summer hiding out at Grimmauld Place. Even in Regulus' old home, would Potter have had the intelligence to work out who R.A.B was? Probably not, but Granger may have…

So, assuming that between them Potter, Weasley, and Granger were able to work out _who_ had taken the Horcrux, how were they able to work out precisely _where_ it was? Or had they just assumed that Regulus had been successful in his mission? No… not even Potter would be so dunderheaded as to assume such an important point without proof. So they must have found it at some point… But surely Regulus would not have been so foolish as to have left it lying around at Grimmauld Place?

Severus rubbed his temples in tight circles, ignoring the sound of Charity reeling off in anger every moment that she suspected that he, Severus, had been harmed by the Dark Lord thanks to Dumbledore's orders.

An image from his previous life came back to him. He had hidden the Sword of Gryffindor, and Potter had spotted it at the bottom of the pond. Severus had wanted to wait, to ensure that Potter retrieved it properly, and as Potter removed some of his clothes before sliding into the ice-cold water, he had spotted a flash of silver about the boy's neck.

So… they had definitely found it by then. Someone out there must have information on where Regulus had hidden it, or who had gone into the cave with them. But who could it possibly have been? As far as Severus was aware, once Potter and his friends had gone on the run, they had no contact with the outside world at all. So it made more sense that they must have either found it, or found Regulus' accomplice while still hiding out at Grimmauld Place…

An ugly face, with a long, pointed nose, and a disposition as sour as Severus' own swum in his vision. Severus' sharp intake of breath drew both Charity's and Dumbledore's attention.

"What is it?" said Dumbledore sharply.

"I may have…remembered… something important," he said tactfully.

Dumbledore nodded. "Are you well enough to move? I should prefer to talk back at the castle."

"Severus isn't going anywhere," said Charity firmly. "Whatever it is you want to do with him, it can wait."

A muscle spasmed painfully in his leg, which caused Charity to return back to his side.

"I am fine," he said, brushing away her concerns with an annoyed wave of his hand.

"Yeah," she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I can see that. You look the very definition of _'fine._ '"

"I could summon Sirius to come here, if we could have some privacy?"

"No!" snapped Severus with as much force as he could manage in his weakened state. The idea of Black being here, in the one place in the world he finally felt safe, at ease… "I am not having him here."

"And I'm not going to be told to go and sit quietly in my bedroom _in my own home_ while the big boys have a conversation," said Charity.

Dumbledore looked from Charity, who was stood with her arms folded and a furious expression on her face, and back to Severus, who was struggling to keep his face as angry as possible with the after shocks of pain and despair that kept wracking him.

"Of course," said Dumbledore eventually. "Forgive me. It is sometimes easy for this old man to get swept up in the moment. I do, however, wish you would reconsider seeing a healer before I leave you alone."

Severus managed his most potent glare, one which he used to reserve solely for incompetent first years. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he seemed to be struggling to prevent a smile. "As you wish, Severus," he said. "We will continue this conversation tomorrow."

Dumbledore inclined his head in a respectful bow towards Charity then swept from the room and out into Muggle London.

"I don't remember him being quite so exasperating," said Charity once they were alone.

"He tends to reserve that side of himself especially for me," he said, shifting his weight into a more comfortable position and wincing slightly at the effort.

"Look, I know you'll say 'no,' but is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No," he answered automatically, then after he experienced a sudden, stabbing pain in his side, said, "Yes, actually. In my room, on my work desk… I have a series of potions filed in a wooden casket. They are alphabetized and labelled… find me a Calming Draught, and a Draught of Peace."

Charity nodded and left him alone. There was an uncontrollable tremor in his left hand but not his right; perhaps one of the after-effects of the dreadful potion he had taken was to render the user's wand arm weaker? What if the effects were permanent? After all, Dumbledore did not live long enough after his own ordeal to find out, and as his current theories pointed to Regulus being dead as well, and the possible only survivor being a non-wand user, there was not really anyone he could ask. The thought of being permanently magically incapacitated was certainly a disconcerting one.

"Here," said Charity, interrupting Severus' thoughts, and handing over two small glass bottles.

Severus checked the labels, and pulled the stopper from the first bottle, labelled 'Calming Draught.' A pale blue mist rose from the bottle neck, filling the room with a fresh scent, as of a summer meadow. He drank the contents of the bottle in a single gulp, and could immediately feel the effects as it worked to counteract the terrible shock and trauma his body had received. An audible sigh of relief came from him as he raised his hand before his eyes, and it was perfectly still and steady. He did the same with the second bottle, and drank the thick, pearlescent contents, finally feeling his anxiety begin to wane as he did so.

"You ok?" asked Charity.

Severus nodded and rested his head back against the sofa.

"What happened tonight?"

Severus closed his eyes and immediately was back in the cave. The Draught of Peace certainly helped to take the painful edge off the memories, but the sound of screams still echoed in his ears, and his soul was filled with wretched sadness as he watched his only two friends mercilessly killed by the Dark Lord.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

Charity nodded sadly. "Well," she said. "I should just leave you to it."

She walked back towards her bedroom, pausing only to wave her wand towards the mug and spilled tea that she had dropped earlier. The tea stain vanished, and the smashed mug remade itself, settling back on the sideboard.

"Charity, wait," Severus called to her retreating back. "I may not want to talk, but… that is not to say that I would not greatly appreciate the company."

She turned and a gentle half-smile lifted up the corners of her mouth. "Sure thing, Sev," she said, and she sat next to him on the sofa.

The warmth of her presence almost seemed to enhance the effects of the calming draught, especially as she made no demands of him to make any conversation. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she reached for a book on the coffee table, then tucked her feet up on the sofa and settled in to read.

The sounds of London life passed by outside; the distant rumble of traffic, punctuated now and again with the siren from an ambulance or a police car; the animated chatter of groups of care-free revellers on their way home from the pubs; the occasional screech from a pair of fighting cats. The sheer mundanity was a far cry from the hell of his magical existence, and this coupled with the effects of the draught made him feel almost at ease.

He glanced at the lurid front cover of the book Charity was reading. _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance._ Not something he was personally familiar with at all. Charity looked up and caught him reading the cover, and smiled warmly at his interest. "You should give this a go sometime, Sev. I think you'd find it an interesting read."

"I cannot say I have any interest at all in motorcycles."

"It's not about that," she said, her smile growing warmer by the moment. "It's more…an exploration of self… an exploration of what we define as 'quality'…an exploration of truth… I just think you should read it sometime."

"I shall bear it in mind," he said noncommittally, as a slight shudder, much less pronounced than his earlier ones, racked his body.

Charity made no comment for which Severus was grateful, and returned her attention to her book. She held it open with one hand, propped up against her knees, and her other hand sat relaxed by her side. He found the elegant shape of her hand and fingers fascinating and was overcome by the urge to touch them. Very cautiously, and knowing that his curiosity and increased confidence were only due to the combined effects of the two potions, he reached towards her and gently traced the outline of hand with the edge of his fingertips.

She looked up questioningly from the pages of her book, and the spell woven by the potions was broken.

"I am sorry," he mumbled, snatching his hand away.

"It's ok," she replied gently, and she held her hand out towards him.

With a great amount of trepidation, he interlocked his fingers with hers, letting out the breath he had not even realised he'd been holding in. She kept hold of his hand and returned her attention to her book. Every now and then he would experience a slight tremor, a greatly weakened after-effect from the cave's despair potion, and each time she would wordlessly squeeze his hand. It was such a reassuring gesture, and one that he had no memory of ever experiencing before.

Indeed, he could not remember ever feeling so relaxed, and with each passing minute, the hell of the cave seemed to fade further and further. He closed his eyes, listening to nothing more than the sounds of Muggle London, and of Charity occasionally turning a page in her book.

He became aware of movement in the room and was immediately shaken from sleep. This was not his bedroom; he fought through the haze of confusion to see that he was lying on the sofa in the living room, a patchwork blanket draped over him.

Very slowly, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, when Charity appeared in the room.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'm just heading out to work, if you wanted to go back to sleep."

After suppressing a yawn and rubbing his eyes once more, he said, "No. I daresay Dumbledore is expecting me sooner rather than later." He stretched his limbs, wincing a little at the aches, and unsure whether they were primarily after-effects from the potion, or rather due to sleeping curled up on the sofa.

"Sorry I didn't make you go to bed last night," said Charity. "I tried to wake you. Admittedly, I didn't try hard… you looked so peaceful that I didn't really want to disturb you."

He thought of how he had fallen asleep holding her hand, and felt a flush of embarrassment at how he could have been so bold, even with so many potions operating on him. And yet she hadn't rejected him. In fact, she had encouraged him. The memory filled his chest with a warm glow.

She vanished into the kitchen for a few moments then returned with a steaming mug in her hands, which she placed on the table in front of him. Grateful for the physical distraction to the confusing thoughts and sensations, Severus reached for the coffee and took a few tentative sips, careful not to burn himself on the hot liquid.

"Try not to come back broken today, ok?" said Charity, as she picked up her handbag and walked towards the front door. "Because I swear, if I see you like you were last night again, I'll march up to Hogwarts and hex Dumbledore myself."

There it was again. That warm glow deep within his chest, a strangely alien and yet not unpleasant sensation. He said nothing as Charity left him alone, and the faintest of smiles crossed his face. It was so strange to know that someone appeared to have his best interest at heart.

A quiet voice reminded him that it would only make the inevitable loss of her friendship that much more painful. He tried to ignore his internal monologue, well aware that sometimes it was far more self-destructive than at others. But it would not leave him alone, preying on his insecurities until he could take no more, and was forced into action to try and silence the hateful little voice. After finishing the bitter dregs of his coffee, he mentally scolded himself for his emotional weakness, then grabbed his travelling cloak and left for Hogwarts.

Dumbledore greeted him at the gates, and together they walked back to the school. Hogwarts during the summer months was one of Severus' favourite places; the castle's quiet and solitude was in no way marred by the presence of loud and ignorant students. In his previous life, he had always made as many excuses as he could to stay at the castle for as long as possible once term ended. Indeed, the times when he could carry out his own researches for hours on end using the school's extensive library without being disturbed were among the happiest—or rather the least fraught—moments of his prior existence.

As they walked across the grounds, Dumbledore began to speak. "I have already taken the liberty of messaging Sirius Black. I trust that you will be able to keep your end of the conversation civil?"

The feelings of comfort, warmth, and calm that he had been experiencing vanished in an instant. His fists clenched involuntarily, and he fought against grinding his teeth.

"I shall take your silence on the matter as complicity. Thank you, Severus. But before he joins us, tell me, what memory came back to you last night?"

"It was not so much a memory. More of a realisation as to who would have been with Regulus Black when he made the switch. Potter would have found this Horcrux, and believe me, he did not have the cognitive capacity to find something unless it was directly in front of him. In the summer after… after he left school, he was living in Black's old house. There were no other surviving members of the family, and the only vestige of the Blacks that remained was their old house elf."

Dumbledore smiled in understanding. "Yes. I very much doubt that Voldemort would consider a house elf's magic to be important enough to register with that boat. It certainly would fit that Regulus took his house elf with him. And so the big question is… did Regulus force his elf to drink the potion, then go into hiding with the Horcrux, or did Regulus instruct the elf to make him drink it, and to leave him to die?"

"I do not know for certain, but if he went into hiding, and still had the Horcrux with him, Potter found it. That I know for certain. And given Pottter's lax observational and deduction skills, I rather think it must have been under his nose the entire time, and was therefore the latter scenario."

"If that is indeed the case, then our task should be easy. I should prefer to keep the actual knowledge of Horcruxes to ourselves, and as such, all Sirius will have to do is instruct the elf to bring him the locket that Regulus left him in charge of. He will be bound to obey."

Severus remained quiet. He highly doubted that any interaction with Sirius would be counted as "easy."

After Dumbledore took him up to the office and summoned a pot of coffee, a selection of cream cakes, and a bowl of Fizzing Whizzbees, Fawkes came flying in through the open window and warbled a low tune. "Excuse me," said Dumbledore. "Sirius is here. I shall return."

Severus nodded shortly, and pushed the rising feeling of discomfort back into the pit of his stomach. The mission could have been passed on to Black without them both being present. There really was not any need for Dumbledore to force them both together.

Severus poured a coffee and stared into the black depths, once again forcing himself into calm before Black arrived. He downed the hot, sweet liquid, and poured another, gritting his teeth as he heard the sound of footsteps walking up the spiral staircase towards the Headmaster's office.

Even with the warning, the surge of anger and hatred at seeing Black was palpable, and the feeling was clearly mutual.

"Black," he said, putting as much contempt into the single syllable as it was possible to do.

"Snivellus," responded Black.

"You know, Black," said Severus, carefully placing the coffee cup on the desk, "it really is comforting to know that nearly ten years of maturing weren't wasted on you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Gentlemen!" said Dumbledore. "I would ask you both to sit, so that we might talk as reasonable adults."

Severus caught Black's dark look, and secretly thought that him talking as a reasonable adult was little short of a miracle, but he sat nonetheless.

Dumbledore waited for a few moments, steepling his fingers and glancing over the top of them between the two men. "Sirius, I have a task for you. One that is utterly vital in putting a stop to Voldemort."

Black nodded and leaned back in his chair. A self-satisfied smirk crossed his face, and Severus felt his dislike spike. He tensed his jaw to prevent himself from saying anything he would regret.

"I need you to summon your house elf," continued Dumbledore. "There is something we need to ask him about."

Sirius frowned slightly and leaned forward. "What do you need from Kreacher? He's a nasty piece of work. Whatever you need doing, Albus, you'll be better off asking me directly."

"Do you believe, Black, that if this was not something we specifically required of your elf, that it would have even been mentioned?" retorted Severus, struggling to keep the sarcasm in his voice to a bare minimum. Black opened his mouth as if to reply, but Severus cut across him. "Tell me, when was the last time you heard from or spoke to your brother?"

"What?" replied Black, confusion clouding his face. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"If you are unwilling to summon your elf, perhaps your brother might aid us instead, so allow me to repeat myself. When was the last time you heard from or spoke to your brother?"

Black shook his head in disbelief. "When I left school. He joined your little gang though, didn't he, Snivelly? You're in a better position to find him than me."

"I do not believe any of us will _find him._ I strongly suspect that your brother is dead."

Black glared at Severus, a muscle tensing in his jaw. "You _suspect?_ Something you're not telling me, Snivellus?"

"Several things, Black, none of which are of any concern to you."

The look on Black's face darkened and he made a gesture as if he were about to reach for his wand, when Dumbledore waved his wand. Both Severus's and Black's wands flew from their robes and into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"Gentlemen, please. I did not call you both here to air your petty grievances—"

" _Petty?_ " interrupted Severus, but Dumbledore continued to talk over him.

"There is a far greater issue at stake than either of your egos. Severus, I have already told you that what is done is done, and any past mistakes made should be put on me. Sirius, I need you to put aside whatever personal dislike you have and aid us."

"This isn't about _personal dislike_ , Albus. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

The hatred inside Severus surged once more, and for once in his life he actually wanted to prove Sirius right. The urge to snatch his wand back from Dumbledore and hex the smug bastard to oblivion was almost overwhelming.

But instead Dumbledore spoke, forcing Severus back into submission. "You are wrong, Sirius. You are very, very wrong. Severus has more than proven to me that he is entirely on our side."

"How?" demanded Sirius.

"That is a matter between Severus and I," replied Dumbledore.

"He's playing you for a fool, Albus…"

"The fact is," said Severus, struggling to keep calm, "I believe that before he disappeared, your brother may have left an item of great power, something that could help us put an end to the Dark Lord, in the possession of your family's house elf. We need you to order him to bring it to us."

"And you need me to bring it to you?"

"That is correct."

"What, so you can hand it straight back to Voldemort?" said Black.

Severus glared at him silently, waiting for Albus to intervene. When the old man said nothing, Severus muttered, "Fine," under his breath. He reached across the desk and snatched his wand from out of Dumbledore's grasp, ignoring the old man's protestations, and stormed from the office. He didn't stop walking until he reached the Great Lake, and sat down in the shade of a beech tree overlooking the water. As the Giant Squid broke the surface of the water, rolled over, and dived back beneath the surface, Severus rolled a cigarette and exhaled the cloud of smoke slowly.

This needed to be over. He was done with it all. Done with the lies, the double life, the constant feeling of being used, of not being good enough…

The thought came to him that perhaps he should just walk away…just leave the country to sort out its own damn mess, but he knew he would not. He was far too involved now to leave the few people he cared about behind.

He became aware of the soft sound of footsteps on grass behind him, and he tensed himself for the inevitable passive aggressive remark that Dumbledore was bound to give.

It never came. Instead, Dumbledore sat down next to him and gazed out over the water. "I love Hogwarts at this time of year," he said. "It is a strange dichotomy, I know. After all, nothing can really beat it when the castle is brought alive by the children that inhabit it, but, I confess, I do love how peaceful it is when they return home."

Severus said nothing, and continued to smoke in silence with Dumbledore beside him.

"I have impressed upon Sirius the importance of his mission."

"Mission?" snorted Severus. "If he weren't so arrogant, his "mission" would be completed in moments."

"Perhaps not," said Dumbledore. "When Sirius left home, his family disowned him. It appears that his elf has taken this a little to heart. Sirius tried to summon the elf when we were alone. He was entirely unable to."

"Bullshit," snapped Severus, to which Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "It is, Albus. After Black's escape from Azkaban, we used Grimmauld Place as Headquarters for the Order. I saw him give orders to that elf, and I saw the elf obey."

"In that time, when Sirius became the last surviving member of the family, then of course the elf had to obey him. He would have been all the elf had left. But at the moment, he appears to be following the orders of the people he loves and cares about. Sirius is, at present, no longer a family member."

"So what do we do? Break into their home?"

"As I said, Severus, I have impressed upon Sirius the importance of his mission. He will have to become a member of the Black family once again."

Severus laughed a cold, humourless laugh. "Good luck with that."

"Sirius has my full trust that he will not let us down, Severus. It may take time, but he will complete his task, of that I am certain."

"So, in the meantime, what do we do?"

"Right now, you go home. I confess, that I have not the least idea how we will get into the Lestranges' vault. And so I think we should focus on the one here at Hogwarts next. I feel that breaking into Gringotts will somehow alert Voldemort to our current mission, and I should personally prefer it if he only becomes aware of what we are doing when he is finally mortal once again. Of course, defeating him even as a mortal man will be no mean feat…"

"So we shall need to ensure we have our own side strengthened and ready when that happens."

"Quite. But please, Severus, for now, go home. I can research objects Rowena Ravenclaw may have left behind. I have an idea or two already, and while the school is empty, I can focus my mind perfectly. You deserve a rest."

A rustling of leaves behind them caught their attention, and Severus turned around to see Hagrid emerge from the Forest with the body of a doe about his shoulders. A crossbow was slung over Hagrid's back, and there was evidence of arrow wounds in the doe's bloody flank. Severus shuddered at the sight of the dead animal.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" exclaimed Hagrid. "I wasn't expectin' to see you here!" Hagrid shifted the doe on his shoulders, exposing the gory wound even further. Severus swallowed the sense of rising nausea, and wished that the doe's eyes were at least closed; they seemed to be fixing him with an accusing stare. Along with the nausea, Severus felt overcome by a dreadful sadness at the loss of such innocence. He turned away from the dead animal and tried not to think of Lily at all.

"Hagrid!" replied Dumbledore. "Yes, it was such a beautiful day, and I am not the only person who feels that such an outstanding view as this," —he gestured out towards the lake with a sweeping gesture— "is wonderfully conducive to helping one get a full handle on one's thoughts."

Hagrid stood awkwardly for a few moments looking between Dumbledore and Severus before he said, "Can I invite you over for dinner tonigh', professor? There's plen'y to go round!"

"That would be delightful, Hagrid. There is nothing quite like fresh venison. Severus? Will you be joining us?"

Severus took one last glance at the doe's empty stare and turned away, shaking his head tightly.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Then once again, take some rest. You have earned it. I will be in contact again shortly."

Taking very great care not to look at the dead body around Hagrid's shoulders, Severus climbed heavily to his feet and walked away from the water's edge, back towards the castle. The next time he stepped foot in the ancient building, or spoke to its current custodian, would be far too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Now go and leave a comment to make the next chapter appear quicker ;)
> 
> Sorry that this chapter is a little quieter than the others - I really needed a slow of pace before the end. I honestly thought this story would be longer, but there's probably only two or three - possibly four, we'll see - chapters left!


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